


Born of Shadows

by xxxillusionxxx



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Always a demon!Stiles, Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Demon!Stiles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-01 19:59:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 44,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxillusionxxx/pseuds/xxxillusionxxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something is strange about Stiles and Peter is the only one who seems to notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles knew Beacon Hills better than anyone. He’d seen a few loggers’ cabins and small farms grow over the decades into a small village, into a town full of migrated families hoping to strike gold, into a much less isolated town with better roads and communication technology, into the diverse suburban populace of today. 

Stiles had been here since two rough dirt roads had first crossed paths on the outskirts of the very first settlement in the area. And so long as men and women still longed for more than they had and were willing to pay for it, Stiles would remain there. 

Being a crossroads demon required quick wit and a silver tongue. Desperate though they are when summoning him, most of his clients got cold feet when it came time to sign away their souls. Convincing someone to sell their soul to a demon for all eternity in exchange for ten years and a fulfilled wish wasn’t as easy as it looked; luckily, Stiles was great at his job. 

Having spent a decent portion of his career in Beacon Hills playing human, Stiles considered himself a wonderful actor. For so long that was all it was: an act. And then he met Mary.

She was 18 when he first ran into her at the crossroads. Another child had been about to summon him for god only knows what (probably love or beauty or some other pointless wish) when she had pulled up in an old sedan, told the boy to get his ass in the car or so help her she would drag him, and yelled at the shocked boy for a good half hour before heading back the way she came; the other one appeared to have been stunned into silence.  
It was such an unusual turn of events that Stiles followed them back into town, curiosity piqued. 

As it turns out, Mary barely knew the other boy. She had happened to overhear him talking about crossroads demons at school. Seeing him walking alone later that night and armed with stories that her grandmother told of the red-eyed demon, she had rushed to stop him from making a terrible mistake  
Mary made the boy promise not to resort to giving up his soul no matter what his needs be before dropping him off at his house with an assurance that she would come back tomorrow to help him in whatever way she could. 

Something about the whole exchange gnawed at Stiles. Some unformed memory of a happier existence, long lost to centuries in the Pit, stirred something in him that Stiles hadn’t felt in longer than he could remember. 

That night, the boy swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. 

The next morning, the boy welcomed Mary into his home and told her that his friends called him Stiles. 

From that day on, Mary and Stiles were inseparable. As soon as he turned 18 (well, physically anyway), Stiles moved into his own apartment.  
That same year, Mary met John. Years passed and, though he still cannot quite pin down when it started, Stiles was feeling again. He genuinely liked Mary. Loved her even, as the only family he could ever remember having. When the two got married, John became a part of that family too. He was a good man with a good heart and Stiles couldn’t have hoped for more for Mary. 

Their son, Julian, was an unexpected experience for Stiles to say the least. Now he was “Uncle Stiles.” Now he was trusted to protect and care for this young soul who looked up to him with such innocence and wonder in his eyes. He never wanted to see that light go out.

Unfortunately, as Stiles knew well, all good things must end. Julian was only 5 years old when Mary was given a time limit. Three agonizing years went by and Mary decayed before their very eyes. It was almost a blessing when she finally passed; she would feel no more pain, though Stiles would never see her again.  
John took her loss hard. He hit the bottle and for a year his son was left on his own. Julian was a lovely child, but watching his mother die so agonizingly slowly had changed him. He spoke less and less during those years. He stopped speaking completely when it was done. 

Stiles tried his best to coax the boy out of his shell, to put the light back in his eyes. Despite his efforts, Julian only went deeper and deeper into himself. John was not truly there and Stiles was still a demon and could not for the life of him figure out how to deal with the emotional loss of others.  
He felt loss himself over Mary, but the dull ache in his chest barely registered to him. It was only one loss among many that he had long forgotten how to feel, but he refused to fall back into the numbness she had pulled him from.

A year later when Stiles found Julian in a pool of his own blood in the bathroom (having gotten to the house late to babysit) he knew that he had failed the boy; had failed Mary. He felt the new loss wash over him briefly before setting to work cleaning the bathroom top to bottom, heading back to his apartment, and leaving the body he’d worn since the night he met Mary. 

They found his body the next morning, and Julian spoke for the first time a year. He quietly asked his father to call him Stiles from now on, in honor of the uncle that he and his mother had loved. John ruffled his hair and looked down at him with understanding in his eyes.  
…  
Stiles had always thought of Scott as his very own puppy. A quiet boy with a big heart and big eyes who followed him around in his mischief, Scott managed to worm his way into Stile’s affections. It wasn’t the same as with Mary, but it wasn’t less significant either. 

When Scott had a run in with an alpha and became a puppy in a much more literal sense, Stiles was both elated and worried. 

Werewolves in Beacon Hills was not a terribly new thing. The Hales had been living on the preserve for years. It was however, new for Stiles to be so involved in the action. It was all rather amusing, yet mildly dangerous (which, who is he kidding, makes it better). 

Each new injury which healed too quickly, the too calm beat of his heart when surrounded by enemies, the sharp stench of sulfur permeating the air around him—all threatened to expose him for what he was, and exorcism was not something he particularly wanted to deal with thankyouverymuch. 

It was his primary concern at the moment. 

The pack had just eradicated the town of a nest of Rusalkas. Stiles could feel the rush of blood lust pushing against his control but he carefully kept his eyes their human amber. Peter, the hypocritical bastard, was eyeing him like he knew he had a secret but could not quite figure out what it was. 

“Stiles, are you ok? I smell blood” Scott’s eyes were furrowed with concern.

“Yeah, dude. Just a scratch” Stiles lied. 

Ah the benefit of being a demon. Lies flew out as freely and easily as the truth, no change in heartbeat. He had in fact, been run through by one of the bastards. It was a miracle quite honestly that none of the wolves had seen. 

“Alright, if you say so,” Scott said, affect unchanged. 

“So I’m just gonna go home and let all of you worry about clean up if that’s cool. I think I got a concussion at some point.” He hadn’t.

“I don’t think you should be driving then,” Allison oh so helpfully added. 

“I can drive him home,” Peter put in. No surprise there. 

“Honestly, I’m fine. I can just drive myself,” Stiles said, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. 

“No, you don’t smell right. You should just let Peter drive you back. I’ll drop your car off later,” Scott said. 

Seeing no real way out of it, Stiles agreed. 

“But does it really have to be Zombie Wolf who drives me?” he asked. 

Apparently, it was a unanimous opinion that Peter was useless dead weight. Stiles sat in Peter’s sedan and wondered what life decisions had brought him here as they drove down the quiet roads of Beacon Hills. 

“So Stiles, I notice that you’ve gotten injured,” Peter said after a few minutes of silence.  
“Well, typically that is what happens when you’re the only human not trained in martial arts fighting with a pack of werewolves,” Stiles observed.

“Hmm,” Peter fell silent and they rode in peace the rest of the way to Stiles’s house. It wasn’t until he pulled into the driveway that he spoke up.

“So is it also typical for the ‘only human’ to be impaled on an enchanted tree root and walk away as if it were nothing?” he asked.

Stiles floundered for a moment, caught off guard. 

“Can I see your wound? To make sure you are alright, of course,” Peter said, smiling like he won the lottery.

Not one to be backed into a corner, Stiles had to fight the black trying to seep into his eyes. 

“I’m going to go inside because I refuse to play into your pedophilic tendencies. Goodnight, Peter,” Stiles said before exiting the car and rushing to the front door. 

Stiles was too old to be dealing with this crap. He had spent half a lifetime with Mary and John. Hell, they were the best friends he ever had, and not once did they suspect that he was anything other than who he claimed to be. Even taking over Julian’s body hadn’t raised any eyebrows. 

Killing Peter would draw too much attention from the rest of the pack and honestly, he didn’t much want to anyway. Stiles had a lot of respect for Peter’s head games and power plays; it was just unnerving to have them turned on him. 

This was why he never got involved with werewolves. Something else he could blame on Peter Hale. 

“See you tomorrow!” Peter shouted out just before Stiles shut the door behind him. 

Stiles really needed to kill something.


	2. Chapter 2

Allison and Scott had adopted a kitten over Christmas break last year. They said they would take care of it together and somehow it became a part of the pack. They took it to every pack meeting and everyone loved that cat.

Stiles hated that god forsaken cat.

Animals were somewhat more sensitive to the forces of good and evil than humans were. When Scott first turned, Stiles had been worried that he would notice that he was not all he seemed with his new animalistic senses. 

Either werewolves did not have that same innate sense of the supernatural that real wolves did or he was surrounded by a particularly oblivious pack. He wasn’t complaining either way.

The cat, however, seemed very aware that Stiles was not human. The god damn thing hated him. The rest of the pack thought it was hilarious and said their personalities were too similar and that was why they never got along. 

If he got scratched one more time, Stiles was going to poison that fucking cat. 

He was glaring at Isaac, Erica, and Scott playing with the cat on the floor when Peter sat on the sofa beside him. He didn’t say anything but Stiles could literally feel satisfaction rolling off of him. He made no comment and soon Derek was calling the pack meeting to order. 

“There has been a lot more supernatural activity in Beacon Hills lately. There have been 7 attacks in the last two months alone,” he said once everyone had settled. 

“There has to be something causing it. I think we should start by checking out the owner of that new bookstore in town. Has anybody noticed the weird smell around that place?” Scott said from where he sat perched on the arm of a loveseat next to Isaac.

Stiles had noticed the strange energy coming from that bookstore. The owners were witches who dabbled in the darker arts. They were essentially harmless, but their practice drew other supernatural creatures near. Stile was honestly fine with this turn of events because it just meant that he could get some of his aggression out without even having to leave town. 

“Yeah it always smells like ozone in there. Plus it just gives me weird vibes,” Erica added. 

“Should I check my dad’s bestiary? There might be something in there that could tell us what’s going on,” Allison suggested. 

“That’s probably a good idea. Peter and I will check out the bookstore ourselves; see if there is anything supernatural going on. In the meantime just stay vigilant. We’ll keep up checks of the area. We want to find any lurking monsters before anyone else gets hurt,” Derek said. 

Everyone agreed and the rest of the meeting went by quickly. Soon enough Isaac and Scott were going out to pick up the Chinese food they had ordered and Erica and Lydia were searching the apartment for pillows to throw into the growing pile on the floor in front of the flat-screen TV. 

The cat came right up to Stiles’s feet and stared at him for a moment before arching its back and hissing.

“Molly! Stop that! It’s just Stiles,” Allison said scooping the cat up and giving Stiles an exasperated look.

“Honestly, I don’t know what it is about you that she doesn’t like,” she said, walking away. 

“That cat’s not fond of you,” Peter said, turning his head to look Stiles in the eye, “It’s strange that she’s so friendly with everyone else.”

“I’m just not a cat person,” Stiles said, disliking the man’s tone, “I’m going to go help the girls find pillows.”

Stiles found Allison and Lydia in Derek’s bedroom arguing over whether or not it would be worth it to drag the whole mattress out. They soon settled on taking just the fluffy pillows on top of the bed and the comforter and with a little rearranging they had an impromptu nest on the living room floor. 

Scott and Isaac returned with the food and everyone filled a paper plate and found a spot in the living room to settle in for movie night. They’d chosen League of Extraordinary Gentleman, which Stiles had already seen several times but still found enjoyable. 

It was always at these times, when Stiles lay sandwiched between members of the pack that Stiles was struck by the fact that this was his life now. Demons were solitary creatures by nature, but Stiles had never been one for being alone. 

He had always lived on the fringes of society: not a part of it, but not outside of it either. Maybe it was something left over from his human existence, but he just couldn’t shake his need for interaction. But it was never like this; never this close connection. 

Stiles could actually feel the pack bond. It was strange that he should feel it, not being a werewolf, but perhaps any supernatural creature could feel a pack bond and Stiles had simply never been close enough to anyone to experience it. 

It was both comforting and terrifying to be so close to another living thing. He had pretended for a while that he didn’t really care about what happened to his friends and the pack; had actually believed he was capable of massacring them should the mood strike. But he was no more capable of killing these children than himself. 

Stiles had spent so much time playing human, he didn’t know what he was going to do once they all inevitably died and left him wandering the earth in someone else’s body. For now he pushed these thoughts aside and focused on the sounds coming from the movie and the warmth of the pack around him. 

\-------------

Stiles had opted not to sleep over at Derek’s apartment and after saying his goodbyes, drove home. Much as he loved to soak up the comfort of having pack close, it was relatively difficult to feign sleep with a pack of werewolves monitoring your heartbeat and breathing. Besides, he needed to get out tonight and either fuck or kill something to get rid of his excess aggression.

John was working late and would more than likely sleep at the office, so Stiles didn’t even bother turning on the lights for show. It was already fairly late, so the bars should be filling up. 

Stiles stood in front of his closet, contemplating what he wanted to wear. To dress for partying or to dress for blood, that was the question. Feeling as if he could go for either, Stiles picked out something nice enough for the bars but expendable enough that he wouldn’t be devastated by its loss. 

He had just finished changing and was sitting at his computer trying to decide whether to go to New York or Chicago when he sensed one of the werewolves outside. He thought about just leaving, but figured it wasn’t worth the explanation he would have to come up with for his seeming disappearance. 

Instead he sat, pretending to be engrossed in the webpage he had up. Someone stepped inside from the window and Stiles turned in his seat, ready to act shocked only to see that the intruder was none other than Peter Hale. 

Stiles couldn’t suppress the eye roll. Something about Peter Hale picked at him until he found that he could barely even keep up appearances anymore. 

“What do you want, Zombie Wolf,” he said. 

“I want a lot of things. Why I am here, though, is another matter entirely,” he replied. 

God but this man liked his dramatics. Stiles waited for an explanation and when it was clear that one was not forthcoming, prompted him for more. 

“Well? Why are you here?” 

Peter smiled and began to speak in Latin. Stiles’s head began to spin and he could feel his connection to his body loosening. He couldn’t stop the black from seeping into his eyes. 

Abruptly, Peter stopped and Stiles swallowed, trying to come back to himself. When he did, he just scowled at Peter who looked like a child on Christmas. 

“So that confirms my suspicions, though it raises many questions,” Peter said.   
“You think you can exercise me? The only reason I’ve even let you live up until now is because your disappearance would create too much of a stir,” Stiles spat. Peter didn’t seem affected by the threat. 

“I don’t want to exercise you. Quite the opposite, actually,” he replied easily.

“Oh,” Stiles said, walking into Peter’s space and taking hold of his jacket to pull him closer, “so you’re a pedophile after all, huh?”

“You’re probably quite a bit older than I am,” he responded, unruffled, “and my intentions are quite a bit more complicated than that.”

“Uh huh,” Stiles said, staring at Peter’s lips and licking his own in anticipation, “you want to take over the pack and be the alpha and yada yada yada. I have a better idea.”

“And what’s that,” Peter asked, smiling slyly. 

Stiles just pulled Peter flush against him and kissed him. The man didn’t respond at first, but then slid and arm around Stiles’s waist and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. Stiles groaned in satisfaction and used his grip on Peter’s jacket to slide it off his body and toss it on the floor. 

Stiles brought his hand up to run his fingers through Peter’s hair, gripping suddenly and pulling his head back as he bit his lower lip. Peter let out a soft moan and that was definitely promising. Deciding that staying in was a much better option than going out, Stiles began walking backwards toward his bead, pulling Peter along with him. 

When he felt the bed behind his knees he fell back onto it, dragging Peter down on top of him. He pulled at Peter’s shirt until he sat up and lifted it off his body. Stiles pulled off his own shirt and was about to shuck his pants when Peter beat him to it. He undid the button and pulled down the zipper painfully slowly before just as slowly sliding the tight jeans down Stiles’s thighs.

Stiles groaned in frustration and Peter laughed quietly, meeting Stiles’s eyes and smiling. Two could play at that game. Stiles leaned back and brought one hand up along his chest, rubbing his nipple and moaning like a whore. 

Peter ripped Stiles’s pants the rest of the way off, followed by his boxers, and Stiles had to laugh as Peter discarded his own pants and lay back down on top of Stiles. 

Their lips met again, the kiss quickly becoming wet and desperate. Peter snaked a hand between them and took hold of Stiles’s dick, rubbing across the head. Stiles’s moan was real this time and he jerked his hips for more. 

Peter pulled his lips away from Stiles’s, instead latching onto his throat, sucking what would most likely be bruising marks into his skin. He kissed his way down his throat and chest, pulling at Stiles’s dick in slow, firm strokes the entire time. 

Releasing his hold on Stiles, Peter kissed his way further down his stomach, taking his time especially when he reached the trail of hair at the bottom of Stiles’s belly button. By the time he finally made it all the way down, Stiles was leaking precum and squirming for more sensation. 

For a moment, all he did was breathe against Stiles’s dick, the warm air nothing but a tease. Stiles was just about to say something when Peter took him in his mouth, not stopping until Stiles’s dick hit the back of his throat. 

Stiles arched his back at the sudden sensation and groaned. He gripped Peter’s hair and willed himself not to fuck into his mouth as Peter swallowed around him and began bobbing his head up and down, pausing every few seconds to swallow him all the way down. 

Stiles lasted as long as he could before he just couldn’t anymore and he was moaning and cuming down Peter’s throat. Peter sucked him until his dick softened, letting it slide out of his mouth with an indecent pop. 

Peter licked his lips and looked up at Stiles with satisfaction. Stiles smirked back at him and switch their positions, lining his body on top of Peter’s. He brought his lips just above Peter’s, barely touching, and ran his lips down his chest and stomach to breathe on his dick. He licked a stripe up Peter’s dick before taking it into his mouth and bobbing up and down a few times. 

Peter was enjoying himself if the breathy moans were anything to go by, but Stiles needed more than this. He stopped moving, his lips wrapped around Peter, and made eye contact while pulling at his hip. 

After a few moments Peter got the message and groaned as he gripped Stiles’s hair in one hand and rested the other on the back of his head. He thrust into Stiles’s waiting mouth, slowly at first, then faster and harder until Stiles’s nose brushed against curly hair with every thrust. 

Stiles almost wished he had a gag reflex just so he could actually choke on his dick. He needed this. He needed fast and violent. It wasn’t long before Peter’s hips began to stutter and he was cuming deep in Stiles’s throat. 

Peter relaxed back onto the bed and Stiles crawled up to lie down beside him. 

“Well,” Peter said, “that was something.” 

Stiles laughed and got up, picking up his clothes from where they had been thrown and putting them away before putting on a pair of sweatpants. Peter looked mildly disappointed but Stiles was not one for cuddling. 

“So you were going to pitch some plot to gain power right? I’m not going to help you with that so why don’t we leave it at you don’t exercise me and I won’t kill you,” he said. 

Peter looked thoughtful for a moment before smiling and getting up to pull on his clothes. 

“Ok, we can do that for now. And I certainly won’t complain if you want to do this again,” he replied. 

“We’ll see, just don’t tell anyone else or I will shove so much wolf’s bane down your throat you’re going to wish you never came back to life,” Stiles said, smiling.

Peter nodded but he was smirking so who knew whether he was going to take the threat to heart. Stiles certainly wasn’t kidding. 

Fully dressed, Peter winked at Stiles before climbing back out the window. 

“Until next time,” he said. 

Stiles wondered how much of a problem he had just created for himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles stared at himself in the mirror. A few hickeys on his neck attested to the night he had, and so he found himself in a bit of a predicament. Should he heal them, as was his usual solution, thus erasing any evidence that Peter Hale shared his bed last night? Or, should he leave them and bait the werewolf? 

He weighed the options in his head for a few minutes before deciding to keep them. Best case scenario, Scott or one of the other betas would notice the hickeys and eventually realize that Peter was the one who made them. Stiles felt joy bubbling up just imagining the backlash that would cause for the man. 

One thing was for certain: Stiles was not going to let some undead wolf get the better of him. So what if he knew that Stiles was a demon; that just made the game more interesting. Stiles was much too old to lose to this sociopathic child. 

Pulling on his shirt, Stiles left the bathroom and grabbed his backpack before walking down the stairs and out the door. Stiles had some seeds to plant. 

\----

“Stiles! What are you doing after school?” Lydia asked, cornering him at his locker.  
Her eyes slid briefly down to the scarf he wore around his neck and she raised an eyebrow but made no comment. Other than loyal-to-a-fault Scott, Lydia was Stiles’s favorite. Quite frankly, he was surprised that Peter had been the one to find him out and not Lydia. 

“I have practice, why?” he asked. 

Lydia put a finger to her lips then gestured for him to follow her, which he did with no hesitation. She led him all the way to her car in the parking lot. Stiles accepted the fact that there was no way he was making it to chemistry on time and slid into the passenger seat, highly curious as to what his friend was up to. 

“Those women who own the bookstore are witches,” she said when the door slammed shut behind her. Stiles let his eyes widen in surprise.

“How do you know?” he asked. 

“One of them is my aunt,” she said, looking down at the floor. This time Stiles didn’t need to feign the surprise that colored his voice.

“What? Why didn’t you say anything at the pack meeting?” he questioned. 

Coexisting with witches was one thing. Being allied with the niece of a witch was entirely another. This was getting more complicated than Stiles liked. He didn’t want to end up exercised or worse, bound. 

“She’s not dangerous, she knows about the pack, but she’s not exactly benevolent either. I know that they’re basically magnets for supernatural phenomenon, but if Derek tries to attack or threaten them? Stiles, she would annihilate him. We have to get there before Peter and Derek and talk to them,” she rushed out. 

Stiles was not ok with this at all. These witches didn’t seem the type to try and exercise him, but binding was another story. Stiles had spent decades scouring the earth for any records of his true name and eradicating them. 

There was, however, no way of knowing that his name was not sitting in some witch’s demonology grimoire, harmless, until he encountered said witch. Then he was up shit creek. 

“Lydia, I don’t know. Why do you need me to go anyway?” he tried. 

“We need at least two pack members present for Auntie May to consider our conversation an official request and no one else would agree to let me do this; they would want Derek to talk to them. You don’t even have to say anything, you just have to stand there and look pretty,” She said, her lips quirking into a smile, “If you come with me I won’t tell anyone about those hickeys you’re hiding, though you’re going to have to tell me about that later.”

Stiles smirked at the clever girl. It was true that if Derek were to be the pack representative it was much more likely to end in war than peace. On the other hand, this trip would mean exposing himself to Lydia at the very least.

“Alright, I’ll go with you, but there’s something we have to talk about first,” he said, letting his eyes turn black. 

\----

He started from the beginning, telling her about his relationship with Mary and eventually finishing with the death of her son and his rebirth as Stiles. Lydia was silent through the entire explanation, looking Stiles right in the eye. When he finished she only nodded and took one of his hands in hers. 

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re pack. Being a demon doesn’t change that. I mean, hell, I’m a banshee and the rest of them are either werewolves or hunters,” she paused, looking thoughtful, “I guess that explains why Scott and Allison’s cat hates you so much,” she chuckled a little and started the car.

“That thing is the fucking devil,” Stiles said, “And Lydia? Let’s keep this between us for now. I highly doubt the others will share your unique view of my hellish origin.”

“Of course,” Lydia said, glancing over at him and smirking, “you know, it’s my turn to be in on a secret.”

Stiles and Lydia sat parked in front of the book shop. It was a cute little cabin with a simple sign hanging above the door. “M & V Books,” it read. Stiles was a little disturbed by how harmless the place appeared. 

“Ready?” Lydia asked, turning to Stiles who nodded and undid his seatbelt. 

“Let’s do this thing,” he said as he stepped out of the car and followed Lydia to the entrance. 

A bell rang out as Lydia opened the door and stepped inside. Stiles was about to step across the threshold when he froze, hackles rising. 

Lydia made it a few steps inside before realizing that she was not longer being followed. She frowned at Stiles through the window on the door and Stiles shrugged, gesturing his hands to signal that he could not get in. 

“Oh dear, he can’t get past my wards. That’s not a good sign,” spoke a middle aged woman coming up behind Lydia. 

Stiles saw Lydia jump then relax when she turned to see who was speaking. 

“Hi Auntie May, can you let my friend in?” she asked, giving the woman a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.

The woman, May, walked forward and opened the door. She was almost a whole head taller than Stiles, and her eyes were a piercing green. She looked Stiles up and down before resting on his eyes. 

“Pah, demon,” she said, frowning down at him, “I will allow you to enter with my niece today, but darken this door again and I will send you straight to the pit, do you understand me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Stiles agreed. 

The witch stared him down for a few moments longer before waving her hand in the air and stepping back inside. Stiles felt the energy barring him from entering dissipate and he followed her inside. 

“Come, I just made some tea. Valorie!” May called. 

Another middle aged woman poked her head out from behind one of the rows of bookshelves. 

“What is it, May?” she said.

“My niece is here to plead for her pack. Can you lock the door, then join us in the back for tea?” May said.

“Certainly,” Valorie replied. 

Her eyes rested on Stiles for a long moment, and then she once again disappeared behind the shelf. Stiles felt exposed and his gut reaction was to savage everything around him, but he knew that witches were better handled with words than with violence. 

When they sat down in a small room in the back of the store, it was by picturing her entrails spilling out onto the floor that Stiles was able to smile at May. The woman chuckled, like she knew what he was thinking, and poured four cups of tea. 

Valorie joined them moments later and sat in the chair next to May’s. 

“So,” May said, “what brings you to my book shop?”

Stiles glanced at Lydia who looked completely at ease in her seat. Her smile looked dangerous and Stiles found himself wishing they were in his bedroom instead of a witch’s lair. 

“Auntie May, the Hale pack would like to formally request a truce with your coven,” Lydia said. 

May looked at her niece thoughtfully for a few moments. She turned to Valorie and they must have reached some kind of understanding because soon she was facing the teens with a serious affect. 

“Your demon stays out of this store and away from our home,” she said, staring hard at Stiles who only raised his hands in surrender and nodded. 

“Your wolves are free to do as they wish so long as it does not harm us or our magicks. We are not trying to create territory for ourselves, we just want to live and practice in peace,” she continued. 

“We can agree to that,” Lydia said easily, “But is there any way you can lessen the attraction you have to the supernatural?”

May and Valorie looked at each other. Valorie stood up and left the room. An awkward silence fell between the three until she returned with a large, leather-bound book in hand. She rested the book on the table, flipping through the pages until she found something that made her smile and look up at May. 

May read whatever was in the book for a minute or so before smirking and turning her attention back to her niece. 

“I think we can manage that,” she said, “Now go tell your pups to leave us the hell alone.”

“Yes Auntie May,” Lydia said, beaming. She stood and walked around the table to hug her aunt before gesturing at Stiles to follow her. 

He did, noting on the way out that he had not been the only one who did not touch his tea. They didn’t speak as they left the store. It was silent still, as they got into the car and pulled away from the little book shop. 

It wasn’t until they made it to the first stoplight that Lydia started laughing.

“Oh my god! I actually did it!” she practically shouted. 

Stiles grinned and truly meant it. It was no small feat to make a deal with a witch, family member or not. 

“You were amazing,” he said. 

She looked over and smiled at him before turning back to the road.

“Hey Lyds, can you drop me off by Peter’s before you go off to tell Derek the good news?” Stiles said suddenly after a few minutes of comfortable silence. 

Lydia slammed the breaks at the stop sign she was coming up to. She looked at Stiles like he had two heads. He couldn’t help but laugh that she would freak out here, and not when she found out what he was. 

“What,” she said flatly.

Stiles just smiled at her until she figured it out. 

“Oh my god,” she said, “It was him? Oh my god!”

Stiles laughed and patted Lydia’s hand gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline. 

“Remember, don’t tell anyone. I’m going to have fun with this,” he responded. 

Lydia shook her head and seemed to gather her racing thoughts. 

“Ok. I’ll drop you off and I’ll keep your secrets. However, you will have a long discussion with me about all of this tomorrow,” she said. 

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, turning on the radio to drown out the mumbling he could hear coming from Lydia’s side of the car. 

\----

When Lydia dropped him off at Peter’s apartment complex, the first thing he did was check to make sure that his car was gone. When he felt confident that the apartment would be empty, Stiles teleported himself inside. 

Stiles had only been here once or twice, and always only briefly. This time, he spent a good fifteen minutes just going through the books resting on a small bookshelf in the living room. He picked up what appeared to be an old diary and found his way into the bedroom.

He kicked off his shoes and peeled off his hoodie, tossing it onto the floor. He then launched himself onto the bed and squirmed around on the soft sheets, grabbing pillows and making himself a cozy little nest. He settled in with his book and waited.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for blood! I added bloodplay and blood kink to the tags. If that squicks you, don't read this.

The conversation with Lydia had been…unsettling. The girl had caught Peter and Derek just as they were preparing to leave the loft for the bookstore. Shooing them back inside and seating herself atop the dining room table with more authority than a teenager ought to be exuding, she launched into a retelling of her stint as pack ambassador.

Derek had been livid. Peter had to admit, it was amusing to watch him berate the girl for withholding such important information and then risking her and Stiles’s safety while she sat, apathetic and unrepentant. 

He had watched with quiet amusement as it escalated before finally stepping in as the well-intentioned mediator. It was not surprising to Peter that the problem was witches. He had drawn that conclusion as soon as the local supernatural activity started kicking up. 

Witches were not concerning, so long as one stayed out of their path. What was concerning, to Peter, was the fact that Stiles had entered that shop at all. 

Any witch working the kind of magic that these women clearly were would know a demon by sight alone. They had clearly recognized the boy for what he was and, having the relationship to Lydia that they did, they had very likely shared this tidbit with her. 

Lydia must know at this point, although she made no mention of it. And Stiles must have known that she would find out. The real question is why. Lydia was young, but she was sharp and brutal. And she was fluent in archaic Latin. 

So why would Stiles even bother getting involved? 

Peter mulled this over as he made his way back to his apartment. He had his hand on the doorknob and the key in the lock when he suddenly smelled sulfur. He froze and tried to pinpoint where exactly it was coming from. 

He opened the door and the scent flooded him. The apartment reeked of sulfur cloaked by cinnamon and honey, a combination he was quite familiar with. 

Peter dropped his keys on the kitchen counter and walked straight to his bedroom. Splayed out across the bed with a book in front of him laid Stiles. 

“Peter, your great-grandfather had some serious self-esteem issues. You would never know it with how he presented himself though,” Stiles sighed and tossed the book onto the floor, “I knew there was a reason I didn’t like him.”

“What are you doing here?” Peter asked as his slid his jacket off and walked to deposit it in his closet. 

Stiles rolled onto his back and stretched his arms above his head, looking upside-down at Peter. For a moment, Peter’s eyes were drawn to the exposed skin above Stiles’s jeans, and he quickly shifted his gaze back to his face. Stiles must have noticed the movement, though, because he was smirking. 

“I just came to hang out. You know, since we’re friends now and all,” he said, grinning.   
“Are we now,” Peter said, feeling more excited and less worried than he knew he should be for his own self-preservation, “and what does that entail?”

Stiles rolled off the bed, smile turning predatory as he walked towards Peter, backing him right against the wall, his arms resting around Peter’s neck. 

“What do you want it to entail?” Stiles asked, his lips brushing against Peter’s jaw. 

Peter growled and flipped them around, slamming Stiles hard against the wall and gripping his throat hard enough to bruise. 

The boy didn’t flinch. If anything, his smile grew wider as he licked his lips. Peter tracked the movement then captured those lips in a bruising kiss. 

Stiles lips parted against his and he licked and bit his way inside. They kissed hard and messy, more aggressive than loving. Which worked for Peter; he wasn’t even sure he could do loving anymore. 

Peter fumbled with the buttons of Stiles’s jeans before sliding them down and out of his way. The boxers quickly followed. Peter gripped Stiles’s dripping member hard enough to hurt. Stiles only gasped then moaned into Peter’s mouth.

Peter broke the kiss to spin Stiles around and bend him against the wall. He slipped three fingers into Stiles’s mouth and the boy obediently licked and sucked them. Satisfied, Peter pulled his fingers back and braced one hand against the back of Stiles’s neck as he slid two fingers into his hole. 

Stiles moaned as Peter worked him open, scissoring his fingers and adding a third. When he had reached the limit of his patience and was sure at least that he wouldn’t draw blood, Peter pulled out his cock, not even bothering to push his pants down, and pushed into Stiles in one hard thrust. 

Stiles’s hands braced against the wall as Peter set up a harsh rhythm. Peter let his hands shift until claws pressed against the skin of Stiles’s hip and neck. He pressed down harder and Stiles moaned as blood dripped down his back and leg. He didn’t sound at all in pain.

“Peter, do that again,” he said, panting. 

Peter smiled and dragged his claws down the length of Stiles’s back, deep enough that he had almost exposed bone. Stiles groaned and pushed back in time with Peter’s thrusts. The blood was flowing free down Stiles’s back, dripping onto the carpet and Peter knew that his room would smell like Stiles for months.

“You are so much less breakable than you seem,” Peter panted out, slowing his rhythm and thrusting deeper, “I could break your bones and I bet you would like it.”  
Stiles just groaned and pushed back until Peter went faster, slicking his hand in the blood on his back and taking hold of his dick. Peter only had to stroke a few times before Stiles was shooting against the wall, clenching around Peter and drawing his own orgasm out of him with a roar. 

Peter panted for a few moments, still connected to Stiles, before pulling out and buttoning up his jeans. There was some blood on them, but he could just throw them out later. Stiles straightened his body and stretched his back, seemingly unconcerned about the severe pain that the movement must be causing him. 

He sighed and smiled at Peter. 

“I knew there was a reason I haven’t killed you yet,” he said, “now if you don’t mind, I’m going to use your shower. You can make the curly fries that I know you have because I put them in your freezer and we can discuss our friendship while we eat.”

Stiles turned and walked into the bathroom like he knew that Peter would do what he said. Peter thought about ignoring the order, just on principle, but honestly he was hungry and besides, the boy had let him literally tear right into him, the least he could do was feed him. 

He found the curly fries in his freezer and dumped them onto a cooking tray, sliding them into the oven. He sat at the kitchen table, wondering how he could use this situation to his advantage. 

 

Stiles spent some time just going through Peter’s things. The bathroom was surprisingly Spartan. Stiles had expected to find expensive soaps and aftershave and gels and whatever else a werewolf needed to maintain an air of classiness. 

Instead, the medicine cabinet was empty except for toothpaste and floss. The shampoo and bar soap were boring and unscented. There wasn’t even any conditioner! Stiles shook his head and finally hopped into the shower. 

He let the warm spray wash over him for a little while before cleaning the blood off of his already healed body. Stiles had hoped the werewolf would stop treating him like the human he wasn’t, and he was thoroughly satisfied.

It was clear to him that Peter was a touch unhinged. He imagined that if he had werewolf senses, he would still smell the smoke and ash on him. Stiles didn’t mind. He’d always related better to the criminally insane than the normal human anyway. 

The only danger in this was what Stiles was risking, namely, his place in the pack. Peter felt he held some sway over Stiles because he knew his secret, and to a certain extent this was true. The only things Stiles placed any value on in this world were his friendship with Scott, his relationship with his dad, and his connection to the pack. 

Should Derek and the others find out that Stiles was only a demon possessing the sheriffs son there was a very real possibility that he would lose all of that. Not to mention, he certainly didn’t want to be dumped back into hell. It was always a pain in the ass getting back out.

Stiles finished his shower then walked back into the bedroom. He thought about just walking out naked, but then decided that he could always get undressed again later. He preferred to talk business with his pants on. 

There were a few blood stains on the back of his jeans but he figured he could just dump them later and go shopping with Lydia.

Stiles walked into the kitchen and jumped up and hooted when he saw that Peter had, in fact, made him curly fries. The man grinned from where he was seated at the kitchen table, a curly fry half-way to his mouth.

“You’re looking much better,” he said. 

Stiles sat down in the chair opposite Peter and grabbed a whole handful of curly fries. 

“I heal fast,” he replied around his mouthful of fried goodness. 

Peter huffed out a laugh and looked Stiles up and down. 

“So I’m assuming this friendship will not involve you helping me achieve alpha status,” he said.

“You assume right,” Stiles said firmly.

“Why is that? What does it matter to you who is alpha?” Peter asked.

“No matter what you think I’m doing here, I’m still pack. I wouldn’t even be involved in all this werewolf drama if it weren’t for Scott being turned so this is all directly your fault. And I may be a demon, but I protect what is mine and this pack? It’s mine,” he said, staring hard at Peter, challenging him to speak against them again. 

Peter clearly had some sense of self-preservation because he backed off completely.

“So what does our friendship entail?” he asked.

Stiles beamed at the werewolf.  
“Sex. Lots of rough and dirty sex. And blood, because I think that may be your thing, am I right?” Stiles asked.

Peter merely nodded his head, a grin spreading across his face.

“I don’t sleep,” Stiles continued, “so at night it’s mostly sex or hunting followed by slow and torturous murder. You’re free to join me in either of those things.”

Peter bared his teeth in a dangerous smile.

“I think I’m going to enjoy our friendship, Stiles.”


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles froze, his hand clenched around his victim’s entrails. His phone was ringing.

 

“God dammit,” he mumbled, ripping back his hand and dropping the viscera on the concrete floor. He bent over and wiped the excess blood on his hand onto the gurgling man’s tattered shirt.

 

“Excuse me,” he said before taking a few steps further into the warehouse and flipping his phone open.

 

“Y’ello,” he said, tuning out the screams and thuds coming from Peter’s kill.

 

“Dude, what the hell is going on over there,” came Scott’s tinny voice.

 

“I’m just watching a horror movie. What’s up? I thought you and Allison were on your way to her family’s lake house already?” he said without pause.

 

“Well we are, it’s just…I was talking to Derek the other day, and he told me that you and Peter are having some kind of…relationship,” Scott said sounding hesitant.

 

Stiles groaned into the phone and thought about neutering Derek. It wasn’t a problem that he noticed that Stiles and Peter have been swapping scents lately or that they seemed to disappear at the same time. It was actually kind of cute how concerned he was that Peter was taking advantage of him.

 

Scott finding out, however, required more delicacy. Once Scott got something in his head, there was no going back and while Derek would complain, Scott would actually take action, and he didn’t want to rip Peter’s balls off for hurting him.

 

“Scotty! Since when do you listen to Derek?” he tried.

 

“Well, I didn’t believe him so I went to your place and you were out but your room reeked of Peter. What’s going on?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

 

Stiles sighed. This was putting a damper on his buzz and he just did not want to deal with Scott right now.

 

“Yes, we’re in a relationship. It’s complicated. Can we just wait until you get back and talk about it then?” he tried.

 

“Alright. But Stiles, if he’s using you…”

 

“Scott, he’s not using me! I’m a big boy; I can take care of myself. Have a little faith,” he smiled at the ironic phrasing.

 

“Ok, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll see you on Sunday, then,” Scott replied.

 

“Have fun!” Stiles sing-songed before snapping the phone closed.

 

Two days was more than enough time to come up with a solid story. Stiles pushed the conversation from his mind and stalked back over to the man he had left on the floor. Unfortunately, sometime during his chat the man had died.

 

He pouted and scanned the warehouse for the third victim. His eyes passed over Peter, clawing into a spasming body and zeroed in on the hunter crouched into the corner, staring in horror at his fallen comrade.

 

He was in front of the man in the span of a breath.

 

“Hello,” he said staring down at the petrified man with black eyes, “my name is Stiles and we are going to have a little fun.”

____________________________

 

“So what are you going to do about Scott knowing about me?” Peter asked later, while they lay naked in his bed, the lights off. He was playing connect-the-dots with Stiles’s moles.

 

“I’m going to tell him that we’re in love and that love is blind and yada yada yada,” he said, eyes following the path of Peter’s hand.

 

Peter snorted.

 

“While I am rather fond of you, I don’t think I can lie quite as well as you can when it comes to declarations of love. He’ll hear my heart skip,” he said.

 

Stiles turned onto his side so that he was totally facing Peter, who responded by tracing the birth-marks on his stomach instead of his arm.

 

“We can sell some crap about how you can’t say the words after the fire. It’s probably true actually,” he mused, “Peter, do you honestly care about me?”

 

Peter froze, his eyes sliding up to the ceiling in thought. They had never talked about anything like feelings in the months they had spent together. Stiles didn’t think that either of them were capable of something like true love, but he at least had completely lost any desire to see Peter hurt or killed.

 

“Yeah,” Peter finally said after a long silence, “I guess I do.”

 

Peter huffed like he couldn’t quite believe that he wasn’t lying and continued drawing patterns onto Stiles’s skin.

 

“What about you?” he asked.

 

Stiles knew that no matter what he said, the werewolf would never hear the lie. Still, he liked Peter. He had fun with him even when they were doing mundane things like watching TV shows and patrolling the preserve.

 

“In my own way, yes. You’re on the short list of people whom I will fiercely protect,” he said.

 

Though Peter knew that he could well be lying, he seemed satisfied with the answer and pulled Stiles into a lazy kiss. He curled an arm around Stiles and closed his eyes as he lay back onto the bed.

 

“I’m going to sleep. You left your laptop in the living room last night if you’re looking for it,” Peter mumbled into the pillow.

 

Stiles thought about pulling out of the man’s embrace and just dicking around on the internet. He didn’t feel like going out tonight and he didn’t need to go home because John thought that he was spending the weekend with Scott and Allison at the lake house.

 

For some reason, he didn’t want to move so he didn’t. He curled up against Peter and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of his breathing and wondering what it would be like to dream again.

___________________________________

 

 

Stiles didn’t move until the sun started bleeding in from behind the closed curtains. He memorized every inch of Peter’s face, down to his individual pores.

 

He learned the rhythm of his breath in sleep, had tried to imitate it for awhile.

 

He played a game with himself where he got one point for every little twitch that Peter made in his sleep that Stiles could predict before it happened. He had 110 points.

 

Deciding that he was not domestic enough to watch the man wake up, Stiles slipped out from beneath his arm and stretched his stiff muscles. He grabbed his laptop and high-tailed it out of there, deciding that he should probably pay Derek a visit.

 

Derek’s loft wasn’t far from Peter’s apartment so he didn’t even bother taking his jeep, he just walked. Ten minutes later found him outside the beta’s door, waiting for the lazy ass to get up and let him in.

 

When Derek finally made it to the door, he was squinting at Stiles like he was a crazy person. Maybe it was because he had literally banged on the door for a straight three minutes.

 

 Whatever, if Derek didn’t want him banging on his door at six in the morning he shouldn’t do stupid things like telling Scott that he was fucking his uncle.

 

“Do you know what time it is?” Derek whined, backing away from the door so Stiles could step inside.

 

“Yeah, I do. Do you know how completely uncalled for it is to get Scott involved in my love life?” he countered, dropping his laptop bag onto the couch and leaning against the back of it, arms crossed.

 

Derek pouted and Stiles wanted to knock his teeth out. What the hell did he think, that Stiles would be glad he told Scott?

 

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself involved in,” he said, crossing his own arms and matching Stiles’s glare.

 

“Oh my god, we went over this already. This? This is none of your business! What are you gonna do, tell my dad next?” he shouted flailing his arms to accentuate his point.

 

“If I have to,” Derek said.

 

Stiles saw red. He had to hold absolutely still just to be sure that he didn’t rip Derek’s arms off. That would just make things way more complicated than they needed to be. He took a few deep breaths and held up his finger, pulling out his cell phone and dialing without looking.

 

“...hello?” Lydia’s sleepy voice came.

 

“Lyds, I wanna go hiking today. We’ll make it like we’re patrolling and kill two birds with one stone,” he said cheerfully.

 

“Stiles, why couldn’t you just call me at a normal goddamn hour?” she whined.

 

“Because I’m going to pick you up right now. I’ll see you in half an hour!” he replied.

 

Lydia groaned and hung up the phone but Stiles knew she would get up because she was probably dying to know why he suddenly wanted to go on an early morning hike. Lydia didn’t value anything like she valued being in the know.

 

Having settled that, Stiles once again focused his attention on Derek and was pleased to note that he was no longer on the verge of killing the werewolf.

 

“Derek,” he said evenly, “Don’t say stupid things. You and I both know that you’re not that spiteful. I appreciate that you don’t trust your uncle but you have to trust me. I’m not a child; I can take care of myself. Now go back to sleep, I have a grumpy diva to pick up.”

 

Stiles picked up his laptop and left the loft without a backward glance. He was rather glad that Lydia knew what he was because he needed some serious advice on how to deal with Derek. His antics weren’t funny once he threatened to tell John that his 18 year old son and only living family member was dating a 34 year old undead werewolf.

 

Stiles walked back to Peter’s apartment building and hopped into his jeep without even bothering to go inside. He made it to Lydia’s house in under ten minutes and waited in the car with the music on until she walked out the front door, glaring at him all the way to the car.

 

“Good morning!” Stiles sing-songed.

 

Lydia looked like she wanted to punch him, but settled for buckling her seatbelt.

 

“This better be important,” she said eyeing him then changing the radio station.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes at the station she picked.

 

“Country? Really?” he said.

 

Lydia smirked and sat back in her seat.

 

“If I have to suffer, you have to suffer,” she said.

 

They drove in silence the rest of the way to the preserve.

 

As soon as Stiles was sure that he was officially out of hearing range of any werewolves, he slammed the door shut and stormed around the car to Lydia’s side.

 

“I can’t fucking believe that stupid selfish asshole!” he shouted.

 

“Two hundred years, I let those puppies claim this territory and I never got involved with any of them. The one time I do and it completely fucks me over. You can’t hide shit from them, god, I don’t know why I thought it wouldn’t be complicated,” he flopped down on the ground and kicked his feet like a two year old.

 

“Stiles,” Lydia said, resting a hand on his shoulder.

 

The contact was strangely calming and he stilled as he looked up at her.

 

“What exactly happened,” she asked.

 

“Derek told Scott about me and Peter and he threatened to tell my dad,” he said.

 

Lydia scrunched her face up in distaste. She would probably never like Peter, but he could appreciate her grudge.

 

“You know Derek is not going to tell your dad. He’s going to wait and let Scott handle it, and Scott is very easy to manipulate. All you need to do is go on about true love,” she said.

 

“That’s exactly what I said! I love Scott, he’s like a kick-ass Disney princess,” Stiles said, laughing.

 

“Alright, I say we start this hike and you can remind me again why you aren’t just killing Peter in his sleep,” Lydia said cheerfully, hooking Stiles arm as he stood up.

_____________________

 

“Um, Stiles? Do you think you should be touching it?” Lydia asked, still standing a full five feet from the body Stiles was inspecting on the forest floor.

 

“Yes, Lyds, how else am I supposed to figure out how she died...aha,” he said, tilting the girl’s head to the side.

 

“Bug bites?” Lydia asked skeptically.

 

“See, this is why I am the real brains of this operation,” Stiles said, laughing at Lydia’s eye roll, “it’s a bite mark. She died from blood loss. So…..”

 

“So a vampire? Vampires are real?” Lydia supplied.

 

“You can ask this dead girl if they’re real or not. I don’t know how good her answer will be though,” Stiles said before standing up and brushing the dirt from his jeans.

 

Lydia pulled out her cellphone and started typing out a text.

 

“Come on,” she said pocketing her phone, “We’re going to Derek’s.”

 

Stiles groaned and dragged his feet, following behind Lydia.

 

“Why is this my life!” he complained.

  
He pointedly ignored the snickering coming from Lydia at his expense.


	6. Chapter 6

“Scott! It’s Twilight in Beacon Hills! You can be Jacob and Allison can be Bella!”

“Stiles, what are you talking about?” Scott mumbled into the phone, sounding half-asleep. 

“Dude, vampires! Duh. Keep up,” Stiles yelled.

Derek slipped the phone from his hand and moved it to his own ear.

“Scott, you’re going to have to cut your trip short and head back today,” he said, turning to avoid Stiles’s grabbing hands.

“Vampires, Scott! They’re everywhere!” Stiles shouted, running in circles to get to the phone, one of Derek’s arms holding him back.

Stiles couldn’t hear what Scott said but it must have been good enough for Derek because he flipped the phone shut without even a goodbye.

“He’ll be on his way soon,” he said shoving the phone into Stiles’s hands and storming off to go brood by the windows. 

Stiles would never understand how one person could be so grumpy. It was scary to think that he and Peter were really related. 

Since Stiles still wasn’t done being pissed at Derek for going over his head with Scott, he ignored the sulking figure and sat on the couch next to Lydia. 

She glanced up from his laptop then ignored him completely as she researched vampires online.

“You’re not gonna find anything useful on there; it’s mixed in with too much bullshit. You have to wait for Peter to get his lazy ass over here. He’s got the good stuff,” he said, squishing himself as far between the couch cushions as he would fit.

“I don’t want to hear about his ‘good stuff,’ Stiles,” Lydia mumbled, smirking.

Derek snorted from his place by the window but he didn’t say anything. Stiles laughed and flicked her arm before resting his head on her shoulder and looking at the computer screen.

A few minutes later, Erica and Boyd showed up and Isaac stumbled out of his room. They were all arranged in a loose circle and most of them were nodding off when Peter finally showed up a full hour later. 

Derek outright growled at his uncle who only smiled and lifted the laptop he had tucked under his arm. 

“You live right down the fucking road, what could have possibly taken this long?” he shouted, his eyes flashing blue as they usually did when dealing with his uncle.

“So little patience,” Peter said, “you wanted information and I had to get it.”

He dropped his laptop onto the dining room table and pulled two old looking books from his satchel. Stiles raised an eyebrow. He recognized one of them.

“Stiles was reading this the other day,” he said holding up the book that Stiles knew, “which reminded me that great grandpa Joshua was alive when the last nest of vampires settled in Beacon Hills.”

“So I went to the storage unit with all the old stuff from the house and dug out this,” he said, lifting the second book, “great aunt Jolie’s diary from the same time.”

He threw both books onto the table.

“That has more information on how to track and kill vampires that even the family bestiary. She dedicated years of her life to figuring out how to prevent the same thing from happening in the future.”

“Like it is now?” Derek asked, frustrated that he was only learning this now.

“Not at all,” Peter said lightly, “they haven’t nested yet. There’s probably only a few of them right now and as long as we take care of them quickly, there shouldn’t be any more.”

“Do you think this is because of the witches?” Erica chimed in.

“It could be. It could also be that they were attracted by another supernatural creature becoming more active in the area. There’s just no way to tell,” Peter said, smirking at Stiles.

Stiles glared at the werewolf, but no one but Lydia seemed to notice. Lydia snapped the laptop shut and passed it over to Stiles, standing up and walking over to the table.

“I’m going to search through the bestiary. Erica and Boyd can go through the books. Peter, Stiles, why don’t you finish patrolling the preserve? Then Erica and Boyd can go tonight, Derek and I can go in the morning, and Scott and Allison can go tomorrow night?” Lydia said, ignoring the wary stares boring into her.

“I’ll go with Peter,” Derek said, pushing off the wall. 

Stiles hopped off the couch and bolted for the door, grabbing Peter’s hand on the way out.

“No, it’s fine. See you later!” he shouted as he slammed the door shut behind him. He couldn’t hear what the others were saying but it must’ve been good because Peter was laughing all the way to the car. 

______________________________________

“Stiles, can you stop jumping around like you’re on crack please?” Peter asked after twenty minutes of non-stop movement. Peter was getting dizzy just watching the boy.

Stiles skidded to a halt a few feet ahead of Peter and spun around to face him, his hands resting on his head like he couldn’t quite bring himself to put them all the way down.

“Peter, do you even realize how amazing this is? The only other time there were vamps here I couldn’t even get involved. And I always avoided supernatural creatures because hunters follow them like flies to honey. So I have literally never in my entire existence staked a vampire,” Stiles enthused, jumping up and starting to skip again.

“I just really don’t see what the appeal is,” Peter said, sighing as he followed the bouncing boy.

“That’s because you haven’t had centuries to contemplate the awesomeness of stabbing someone and watching them explode into a pile of dust,” Stiles replied.

Peter shook his head and tried to suppress his smile. Sometimes Stiles was truly terrifying. He was so perceptive it made Peter feel like he could look right through his skin to his twisted insides. 

Then other times, he was just Stiles: extraordinarily sarcastic and thinking on a completely different wavelength than everyone else. It was intriguing and unsettling and somehow exactly what he needed to feel alive again. 

Peter didn’t realize that he had stopped moving until Stiles was right in front of him, backing him against a tree.

“What are you thinking about so hard? You’re starting to look like your nephew,” Stiles whispered into his ear.

Peter swiped at Stiles’s legs with one foot and used a clawed hand to force him onto his knees. Stiles immediately started unbuckling Peter’s belt, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Please refrain from comparing me to Derek. It’s highly offensive,” Peter said, tugging hard at the hair gripped in his hand. 

Stiles grunted but his smile never faltered and in moments he had Peter’s cock in hand. He looked up at Peter as he leaned in and sucked the head into his mouth. Peter growled and tightened his grip, forcing Stiles to either take more of his dick or lose a handful of hair.

Knowing the demon, he would probably enjoy either. 

Stiles, however, moved eagerly until his nose was brushing against coarse hair. He swallowed around Peter a few times and it took everything Peter had not to just buck into his face. He moaned like a man starved when Stiles began to bob his head up and down, letting Peter’s dick punch into the back of his throat with every movement.

When Peter felt close to his own orgasm he growled and snapped Stiles’s head back, his dick sliding out of slack lips. He moved his grip from Stiles’s hair to his throat and dragged him to his feet, claws pricking into sensitive skin and drawing blood.

Peter shoved Stiles towards the tree and without prompting the boy slid his pants down his thighs and bent forward, holding his weight on the tree and displaying himself like the whore he was proving to be. 

Peter didn’t bother opening him up, just slid right into that tight heat with only Stiles’s spit to ease the way. Though there was no way he hadn’t hurt him, Stiles moaned and encouraged Peter to thrust harder, faster, deeper. 

“Oh god, Peter! Fucking harder!” Stiles whined, shoving back to meet Peter’s thrusts. 

Peter slipped his hand under Stiles’s shirt and rubbed his stomach a few times before stabbing his claws in as deep as he could get them. 

“Uhn, fuuuucckkk do that again,” Stiles moaned.

Peter slid his hand further up to Stiles’s chest, then his throat. He dragged his claws lightly down on side of his neck to his chest, then dug into the skin and dragged his claws down the same path. 

Stiles made a small, broken sound and came hard. Peter rutted against his relaxed body until he found his own release, lapping the blood dripping from Stiles’s neck. 

They panted, leaning against the tree for a few moments before straightening their clothes and taking stock of the damage.

“Ok, wow. I’m definitely going to need to change my clothes at your place before I go home,” Stiles said, laughing at the huge red stains growing on his white t-shirt. 

Peter tilted his head to the side as a thought occurred to him.

“Why do you bother going home?” he asked.

“Um, because I’m still technically a 17 year old boy?” Stiles said like Peter was mentally challenged.

Peter shook his head.

“No, I mean why bother playing house at all? Does John really mean that much to you?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Stiles stared at Peter for a few seconds, his lips set into a tense line.

“Have you ever loved another person?” he asked.

Peter thought of his family, his wife, all the people he had before the fire.

“Yes, I have,” he said.

“I hadn’t. Not until I met Mary. She was amazing. She spread goodness and light wherever she went and yet she easily accepted and embraced the darkness in me. Something about her was just special. I learned how to actually care for another living being because of her. If all I can do for her now is protect the love of her life from heart break then it is not nearly enough,” Stiles said.

Peter was silent as he mulled that over in his head. 

“Becca was like that, good. I was never wholly there, even before the fire and I sometimes wonder if she would have been better off if she had never met me,” Peter confessed. 

Stiles smiled then froze, his eyes darting past Peter. Peter turned to follow his gaze and caught movement at the corner of his eye but whatever it was was gone.   
“What was it?” Peter questioned the boy whose smile had gone manic. 

“It’s Edward Cullen!” Stiles shouted gleefully.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has liked this so far and commented!! I'm so glad other people enjoy the story!! I couldn't get this chapter exactly how I wanted it so I gave up and just posted it lol.

“So you really don’t smell anything?” Stiles asked curiously.

Peter scowled. Stiles had insisted that the creature ran in this direction, though he couldn’t understand the sudden twists and turns the boy had made. He could find no trace of a trail to follow. 

“No, Stiles, I really don’t. Are you sure you know where you’re going?” he asked skeptically.

Stiles waved a hand behind him.

“Trust me, dude. I got this,” he said, pausing as they entered into a clearing.

A very familiar clearing. The Hale house stood dark and imposing in front of them. Peter scented the air and still caught nothing but the mingling smells of the forest, ashes, and Stiles. He closed his eyes and focused totally on the sounds and smells.

He grabbed Stiles by the shoulder and pulled him closer until the boy’s back was pressed flush against his chest. Stiles turned his head and looked at him questioningly. 

“Footsteps on the second floor,” he whispered into Stiles’s ear. 

Stiles smiled and nodded before grabbing Peter by the hand and dragging him toward the house. Just before they stepped onto the porch, Stiles spun around and pressed a chaste kiss to Peter’s cheek. 

Pulling back, he winked then vanished completely. 

Peter just stood there for a moment. No matter how many times he saw the boy do it, he doubted he would ever be used to seeing him just disappear and reappear like that. 

He heard the sound of breaking wood and slamming bodies coming from the second floor and he ran toward it, hoping to get there before the good part ended.

___________________________

Stiles slammed the vampire onto the floor, placing a firm hand on his chest before he could get up again. He pressed down until he heard ribs snap and the vampire screeched in pain.

“How many of you are there?” Stiles asked calmly.

The creature hissed through its sharp teeth. Dark veins travelled down from his black eyes and really, it was insulting that he was sometimes mistaken for a vampire because he was nowhere near as ugly as this thing.

Stiles dug with his fingers until he broke skin, reaching between ribs to tear at the creature’s lung. 

 

“I can do this all day, so it’s no rush,” Stiles said, flexing his fingers in the torn and bloody organ. 

Peter crouched down next to him. He hadn’t even heard Peter come in over the sound of the vampire’s screams. Peter gently lifted the vampire’s arm before snapping it at the elbow. The vampire howled in pain.

“You should be careful; you don’t want to kill it too fast,” Peter said. 

“No worries, as long as you don’t stake the heart he can heal,” Stiles replied. 

He pulled his hand out of the vampire’s chest and slid it down to his stomach, getting ready to pierce the flesh.

“Six! Sixsixsix!” the vampire screamed.

Stiles froze but didn’t lift his hand. 

“Including you?” he asked.

“Yes!” 

Stiles looked over at Peter.

“Is he lying?” he asked.

Peter shook his head.

“Not according to his heartbeat.”

Stiles hummed and stood up, brushing the blood off on his shirt. He wasn’t a huge fan of this one anyway. He scanned the room for a moment before finding what he was looking for. He skipped over to the far corner where an old wooden chair lay half-burnt on its side. 

He snapped one of the legs off, thrilled that it broke off pointed, and walked back to Peter and the gasping, bleeding vampire. 

“Hold on, I want to cherish this moment,” Stiles said gleefully.

Peter rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything as Stiles let the drama build. He knelt down beside the vampire and let the makeshift stake hover over his heart long enough for the vampire to notice and try to bat it away. 

Finally, he slammed it down, straight through the creature’s heart. He screamed then burst into a pile of dust.

“I am Stiles! The vampire slayer!” Stiles shouted. 

Peter just started walking away, ignoring the skipping, hollering boy behind him.

______________________________

Stiles sat next to Lydia at the pack meeting that night. Peter sat on the opposite side of the room but Derek still kept glancing between them like they would start having wild sex in the middle of his living room at any moment. 

Scott got back right before they all decided to meet so he kept giving Stiles his concerned puppy dog eyes. Stiles was torn between making Derek uncomfortable and making Scott less worried. He decided to just focus on the bag of gummy bears he made Peter pick up earlier. 

“So did you get any other information? Like where to find them?” Derek asked his uncle after he told the pack about their run-in with a vampire that morning.

“No, but…” Peter began only to have Stiles cut him off.

“We didn’t need to ask him where they were because we already found their evil lair,” Stiles said. 

Peter stared back at him with as much confusion as the rest of the pack. 

“So where are they?” Scott asked when Stiles didn’t continue.

“Oh, they’re at the abandoned mall,” he said. 

He had gone to check the abandoned buildings in close proximity to the preserve while Peter was in the gas station. It hadn’t taken him long to find them.

Derek looked towards Peter who schooled his expression carefully blank. 

“We’ll need holy water and wooden stakes. Only wood to the heart can kill a vampire for good,” Lydia chimed in. 

Derek looked at Lydia then back at his uncle before taking a deep breath and letting it go.

“Ok, so I say we do this tonight. The sooner we kill them the better as far as I’m concerned, it gives them less time to prepare,” Scott began. 

Scott laid out a plan which everyone could agree on. They would break up into pairs and enter from different sides of the building, meeting in the middle and howling for help if they were in over their heads. 

Lydia began to suggest that they keep the same pairings they used for patrolling but was quickly cut off by both Derek and Scott, who agreed that it would be best for Peter and Derek to go in together. 

Stiles was paired with Scott, supposedly because he would be safer with the strongest member of the pack. He didn’t particularly care as long as he got to make more vampires explode. 

The rest of the day Stiles spent sharpening pieces of wood with Lydia. Isaac somehow managed to get two full gallons of holy water. Stiles had cringed internally when Scott handed him a water bottle full of the stuff but smiled and joked about vampires being H2O intolerant.

“Did you make enough stakes?” Derek asked later that night. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. The guy had no faith.

“There are two stakes for each of us. There’s no reason that shouldn’t last us but worst case scenario, Allison has a ton of arrows we can just reuse,” Stiles said, stuffing his own stakes and holy water into his backpack.

“Stiles, can you take our stuff to the car and I’ll meet you down there in a minute?” Scott asked.

Stiles was tempted to refuse, just on principle, but quickly decided it just wasn’t worth the argument. He scooped up his backpack and left Scott’s stakes for him to figure out what to do with before walking to the elevator.

Just before the door shut, Peter followed him inside. 

“They kick you out too?” Stiles asked.

Peter grinned and nodded.

“It’s a little insulting that they think we don’t realize they’re talking about us,” Peter said. 

“Nah, I think Scott wants to keep us separated in case you get me killed. I bet you anything he’s going to have one eye glued to me the entire fight,” Stiles said.

Peter tilted his head thoughtfully.

“You should be careful not to get any unexplainable injuries,” he said.

Stiles rolled his eyes and walked backwards out of the elevator as the door dinged open.

“Ok, mom,” he said laughing. 

Peter swiped at his head but Stiles ducked and ran laughing to his jeep. 

______________________

Stiles parked the jeep about a mile away from the abandoned mall. Scott insisted on keeping the ambush as quiet as possible so that none of vampires tried to run away.

He followed Scott as he paused to listen outside of the building, then at every corner. It was eerily quiet. Stiles couldn’t hear anything but his own breathing.

After almost five minutes of wandering the perimeter of the mall Scott froze and signaled for Stiles to stop. Stiles strained his senses but could hear nothing. 

Then suddenly Scott was wolfed out and growling, jumping into the air to claw at a black-clad vampire who had jumped down from the second floor. Their bodies met with an audible slam and they fell to the ground, hissing and snarling as they fought.

Stiles ducked to the side just as a clawed hand swiped at where his throat had been. He pulled a stake from his backpack before abandoning it on the floor and launching himself at the woman. She dodged him and lashed out, knocking him on his ass.

She was about to jump on him when claws dragged across her throat and she stumbled in her surprise. Scott took the opportunity to drive his stake into her heart and she screeched as she collapsed into dust. 

“Are you ok, bro?” Scott asked, reaching a hand down to help Stiles up.

Stiles took it and pulled himself up to his feet.

“I’m fine, let’s go help the others,” he replied.

Scott nodded and they rushed towards the sounds of conflict coming from the center of the mall. There were three vampires left when they got there, slashing at the werewolves and humans who had circled them in. 

Holy water splashed onto the floor and the vampires, incapacitating them as the wolves ran closer to run them through. Stiles opted to stay very far from this fight and backed away as far as was normal. 

The fight didn’t take long. The last vampire screamed out her death in under fifteen minutes, the pack dispersing to double check that there were no stragglers. 

Lydia walked up to Stiles and bumped her shoulder against his. He noted that the water bottle in her hands was empty. 

“That was somewhat anticlimactic,” she said.

“I know! I didn’t even get to kill any of them!” he said, sighing dramatically, “Maybe I can role-play with Peter and stab him with my stake.”

“If you mean that literally, then I whole-heartedly support you,” Lydia said lightly.

Stiles laughed and rubbed Lydia’s back affectionately. 

“Yo, did you find any more?” Stiles shouted, walking towards Scott when he spotted him coming down the escalator. 

“No, everyone’s on their way over,” he replied. 

Just as he spoke, Erica and Isaac reached the center of the mall, Peter, Derek, and Boyd not far behind.

“So what now?” Lydia asked when everyone was settled into a loose circle.

“I think we got them all, but we’re going to meet back at Derek’s to debrief,” Scott said.

Erica huffed and crossed her arms impatiently.

“Oh come on, Erica, it’s not like you actually have anything better to do,” Stiles said, crossing his own arms. 

“Oh my god!” she shouted, throwing her half-full water bottle at Stiles’s head.

Stiles had half a second to mentally curse himself before the water hit him, sizzling against the skin on his neck and face. He screamed and clawed at his burning flesh, aware of but helpless to hide the black in his eyes. 

He was mindless of anything beyond the pain for what felt like hours but was probably only a minute or so. When the pain dulled, he left his hands covering his face for a few breathes. He could feel his skin healing beneath his fingers.

Slowly, he peeked between his fingers to meet six stunned faces and two worried ones. No one said anything. 

“Um, so…” he started and it was as if he broke a spell because then everyone was talking at once.

“What the fuck!” Erica shouted.

“Did they bite you?!” Isaac squeaked.

“Peter, what the fuck?” Derek growled, quick to blame his uncle. 

“Are you ok?” Allison asked.

“You guys, shut up!” Scott growled until everyone else fell silent. 

Scott turned to his best friend with a lost look in his eye. 

“Stiles, what was that?” he asked softly.

Stiles hesitated. He could tell his friend the truth, tell him who he was and why he was here and that he was still dedicated to the pack, but there was a very real possibility that everything would end right there. 

They could tell John, destroying his last tie to Mary forever, devastating the man he had spent decades trying to keep happy. They could exorcise him, send him back to hell. He wouldn’t be pack anymore, wouldn’t be anything but the parasite that he was. 

He looked at the boy he had come to care about almost as much as Mary, begging him with his eyes to give him a good explanation. 

Stiles took a deep breath and vanished.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than usual. I was going to write more before putting out a new chapter, but I felt bad about leaving off where I did. Plus I have finals tomorrow and I needed to feel like I accomplished something lol.

The moments following Stiles’s disappearance would probably one of the best memories of Peter’s entire life. Isaac screamed like a frightened child while Scott dashed up to where Stiles had been just moments before, feeling around the air as if he expected the boy to have turned invisible.

Derek jumped into a crouch and started growling at nothing and Erica followed suit. Allison stood off to the side gaping like a fish, eyes bulging out of her head. 

The only two who were seemingly unaffected were Lydia, who was texting, and Boyd, who had not moved at all except to widen his eyes. 

Peter waited for someone to say something for about three minutes. When nobody moved from whatever absurd position they had settled into, Peter just burst out laughing. 

Derek’s eyes snapped up to him and immediately launched himself at his uncle. Peter dodged his swiping claws the first few times but he was still much weaker than any of the other betas and he was well and truly bloody by the time Scott dragged his nephew off of him.

“Derek, what the fuck are you doing?” Scott shouted.

“He did something! Don’t you see? I knew there was something weird going on with their, relationship,” he spat the word. 

Scott looked from Derek to his uncle, his hold on him loosening. 

“Alright boys, relax. This has nothing to do with Peter,” Lydia said, finally pocketing her phone. 

“You know what’s going on?” Allison asked her friend, everyone’s attention on her now. 

“How about we go back to Derek’s loft, like we planned, and we can have a long conversation,” Lydia said. 

“Is he...he’s ok, right?” Scott asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

“More or less,” Lydia said, turning away from the werewolves and walking toward her car. Allison looked from her to Scott before rushing to follow her. The werewolves gaped at their retreating forms. 

“So...I guess we’re going to Derek’s?” Isaac asked, looking toward Scott for direction. 

“Yeah. Yeah I’ll take Stiles’s jeep. Everyone just go back to the loft,” he said, suddenly very glad that Stiles made him a spare set of keys in case he lost his. 

Boyd was the first to turn around and walk away, followed by Erica. Derek looked down at his uncle who had made no attempt to get up and reclined on his forearms, looking more comfortable than hurt.

“Come on Isaac. Peter, you can walk,” Derek growled before storming off, Isaac following right behind him.

Scott watched them go then glanced down at Peter. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with Stiles with this or with you, but I don’t like you. Whatever’s going on, he’s still my brother and if you hurt him I’m going to kill you for good this time,” he said before leaving him healing on the concrete floor. 

Peter hummed to himself and listened until the last car engine escaped his range. Finally standing up, Peter stretched and checked out the damage. It was mostly superficial, a lot of blood but relatively shallow cuts.

Peter considered following up on the big reveal just to see how everyone would react, but he had a feeling that could quickly turn against him and he really did not feel like being harassed. Besides, he was fairly certain he knew where Stiles had run to. He abandoned his mostly shredded shirt and started running.   
________________________________________

The bathroom was hazy with steam. When he first stepped into the tub, the water had been so hot it had literally burned his flesh. A normal human would have cooled it down but Stiles had slid right in and relished the burn. 

His skin was still beat red everywhere he could see it peeking through the thick layer of foamy bubbles he had buried himself in. 

It didn’t take long for Peter to find him. When the door opened the steam rushed out of the bathroom and must have hit Peter like a wall, but he only walked inside and closed the door as if the stifling heat in the air were nothing. 

“You look like shit,” Stiles commented from his bubble fortress. 

Peter ignored him and sat on the edge of the tub, looking down at Stiles with raised eyebrows. 

“Since when have I owned bubble bath?” Peter asked. 

“Since I broke into your neighbor's apartment and stole it,” Stiles said lightly. 

Peter slipped a hand into the water, humming when he felt the heat. 

“So what’s your plan here, run away from your problems until they disappear?” Peter said. 

Stiles glared up at him and his eyes flashed black. The effect was somewhat ruined by the bubbles sticking to his hair and face. 

“Fuck you Peter, all of this started with you,” he snapped. 

“I don’t remember throwing holy water at you, but you can tell yourself that if it makes you feel better,” Peter replied calmly.

Stiles crossed his arms and looked away before realizing how childish that was and twisting around to glare at Peter instead.

“What are you going to do?” Peter asked when Stiles remained silent. 

Stiles thought about it, hell, he’d been thinking about it for the past hour. There was a very real possibility that this moment marked the end of his foray into humanity. All the time he had spent, all the energy, wasted. John would learn that he had no family left, his pack would seek to destroy him, and all hope of skipping bodies would mean nothing if the hunters knew to look for him now.

Stiles didn’t know how to deal with this. He didn’t have the words to reassure his pack that he wasn’t a monster because that just wasn’t true. He was a monster, but he would never hurt his family or his pack. He knew he needed to try to salvage this but he felt paralyzed. 

“I’m going to sit here until my fingers are pruny, then I’m going to go home. The pack will reach some decision about me and they’ll either leave me alone or exorcise me,” Stiles finally said. 

Peter looked confused.

“You’re going to stay? Why?” he asked. 

Stiles sighed. 

“You were in a coma for six years, three of which you were completely conscious for, do you remember what that was like?” Stiles asked.

A dark look crossed Peter’s face and he nodded. 

“That’s what happens when you have no connections for hundreds of years, when you cannot sleep, cannot dream. You were trapped in your body. I was expelled from my body, cursed to suffer in hell or suffer on Earth, always seeking what was missing. Peter, I never realized how lonely I was, how much I craved connection with another soul, until I met Mary. Now that I know what I can have with the pack, with my dad, with you, I don’t want to lose it.”

Peter looked at Stiles curiously and brushed his fingers through his hair. 

“How about you stay here tonight. Whatever happens, I’d rather stick with you than this pack. We have way too much fun for you to just be exorcised,” Peter said with a tight grin. 

Stiles sunk down until half of his face was submerged beneath the water. He looked up at Peter who sat looking down at him as if he expected him to disappear. Stiles smiled and grabbed the belt loops of Peter’s jeans, dragging the startled wolf into the water and overflowing the tub.

He laughed when Peter growled and splashed him. They stayed in the tub until both of them were red and pruney.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray! My finals are finished! Here's another short chapter. The next one should be longer, don't worry.

Stiles and Peter had settled in for some sappy lifetime movie when Peter tapped Stiles on the shoulder and whispered a warning into his ear. 

Stiles jumped off the couch and walked to the front door, opening it without a second thought. Scott stood on the threshold, one hand lifted as if to knock. He blinked twice before dropping his hand and grinning sheepishly.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

Stiles cocked his head to the side, assessing his friend. Scott didn’t move to push his was inside or pull Stiles out of the apartment, but just stood there smiling at his friend. Deciding that it wasn’t really a risk, Stiles stepped aside and let Scott into the apartment.

“Peter, can you go pick up some pizza?” Stiles asked, not bothering to raise his voice when he knew the wolf could hear him.

When he made it back into the living room, Peter was standing face to face with Scott, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed.

“Peter,” Stiles hissed.

Peter finally broke eye contact with Scott and looked over at Stiles. He quirked an eyebrow but went to get his wallet. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said as he exited the apartment, sparing one last glare for Scott. 

Silence fell as the door clicked shut, heavy and stifling. A part of Stiles wanted to know what his friend thought of him now. A much bigger part of him was still in denial that Scott knew his true nature, so he didn’t say anything. 

“So Lydia told us about you,” Scott started, breaking the silence but doing nothing for the tension, “it was…surprising.”

Stiles was careful to keep his face blank. He made a noise of acknowledgement but didn’t say anything more. 

“Stiles why…why didn’t you ever tell me? I thought, I mean, aren’t we brothers?” Scott rushed out, hurt evident in his voice. 

Stiles flinched back a little. He opened his mouth then shut it again, shaking his head.

“Scott, you’re my best friend. It’s just, this isn’t what I’m supposed to be. I’m playing human and I wanted to preserve that illusion for as long as possible. I’m just not ready for it to be over,” Stiles finally said, hoping that Scott would believe him. 

“Why does it have to be over? Are you leaving?” Scott asked, sounding distressed. 

Stiles stared at his friend, dumbfounded. He had never been in a situation like this before and this was definitely not what he was expecting would happen. Scott still cared about him. 

“I’m staying here until someone exorcises me or my dad dies,” he said, at a loss for what to do now. 

Scott sighed in relief.

“Ok good. That probably won’t be a problem,” Scott said.

“So you really don’t care that I’m a demon possessing a dead boy?” Stiles had to ask.

Scott shrugged.

“You didn’t care when I became a werewolf. We can’t help what we are, but I know you Stiles. You’re not a saint, but you’ve got my back no matter what, and I’ve got yours,” Scott said firmly. 

Stiles shook his head, smiling.

“Does everyone feel this way?” Stiles asked. 

Scott hesitated. Stiles groaned internally as he realized that this could still go to shit.

“Scott, who has a problem with this?” Stiles pressed.

“Allison and Boyd. You have to understand, Kate used to tell Allison these stories about demons, and Boyd’s family was just really superstitious about spirits and demons. They don’t trust that you’re not going to turn on us. Derek is ambivalent. I think he just feels really betrayed since you guys were getting closer this year,” Scott said.

Stiles walked over to the couch and sat down, resting his head on his hands. Scott sat next to him and rubbed his back supportively.

“It’s ok, I calmed them down enough that they should be reasonable. I reminded them that you’re still pack and that it is impossible to fake a pack bond. I also warned them that anyone who tried to hurt you would be kicked out of the pack entirely,” he continued. 

Stiles peeked up at Scott. 

“Dude, Allison is a hunter. All she needs to do is say ‘demon’ to her dad and bam, it’s back to hell for me,” Stiles said bitterly. 

Scott tilted his head to the side.

“What’s hell like?” he asked.

Stiles sat up and laughed, patting Scott’s lap.

“It’s hell, man, it sucks,” he said reaching over Scott for the remote. 

“Look, to make up for lying to you I’ll answer any questions you have about me to the best of my ability, whenever you ask them. I even promise not to lie,” he said as he changed the channel so that Spongebob played on the flat screen. 

Scott furrowed his brows in confusion.

“But I could hear it you’re lying?” he questioned. 

Stiles winked at him and pat his chest.

“This is a dead body. I’m the only thing keeping it working, so I have complete control over all of it, including the heart. It doesn’t skip unless I want it to skip,” he said, smirking. 

Scott looked as if he had been scandalized and Stiles had to laugh because of course that was what bothered him and not the fact that his best friend was hell-born. 

______________________________________________________

Peter didn’t feel entirely comfortable leaving Stiles alone with Scott at the apartment. Sure, the boy could take care of himself but her doubted whether he would ever kill Scott should the need arise. 

He hadn’t sensed any other lurking heartbeats on his way out so he could only hope it wasn’t a trap set up on Scott’s part.

The pizza felt like it took forever to finish baking. 

When he got back to the apartment complex, his heart was practically in his throat. He rushed right inside and burst into his apartment only to find the two boys sitting on the sofa watching Spongebob.

He paused as his heart beat slowed and he carefully laid the pie down onto the kitchen counter. 

“I’m going to assume we’re on peaceful terms here,” Peter said carefully.

Scott and Stiles shared a look.

“Well, we are about the whole demon thing but…” Stiles started.

“But I still don’t trust you and I think Stiles can do way better,” Scott finished.

Stiles shrugged and smiled playfully at Peter. He was lucky that Peter didn’t mind playing nice. 

“Fair enough,” he responded, going to the cabinet to pull out paper plates. 

The three of them ate pizza in the living room, watching TV and occasionally making comments on the show or on Stiles’s species. They ended up watching animal planet when Peter complained that this was his TV and there was no reason he should have to watch children’s shows. 

When Stiles went home later that night he finally checked his phone. He missed a few reassuring texts from Lydia and texts from both Isaac and Erica saying they were ok with him and still considered him pack. 

The text that really worried him was one from Derek that simply said “We need to talk.”

He responded immediately, saying he would head over there after school tomorrow. 

His dad would be home later. So far, he still didn’t know and Stiles wanted to keep it that way at whatever cost. Scott felt he had control of his pack but Stiles didn’t trust that. He mulled over his options.

He didn’t want to kill anyone in the pack if it could be avoided. He also didn’t want to create a rift between Boyd and Allison and Scott. He would talk to Derek tomorrow, soothe his hurt pride. 

He could threaten Allison. Put enough fear in her heart that she would let sleeping dogs lie. Pre-emptively striking at Chris would be a good precaution as well.

Boyd would be much more difficult. He didn’t have any living family left and very little could move him. It may come down to setting him up against an enemy that he could not beat. 

Either way, now that he had the chance he would fix this problem before it grew any bigger. Glancing at the clock, he figured he had another two hours at least before his dad got home. He changed into an old, stained shirt and pants and went to pick up Peter for a stress-release outing.


	10. Chapter 10

“We’re going to do what?” Peter asked incredulously. 

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Not we, I. I’m going to scare Allison bad enough to stop her from doing something stupid,” he said pulling on his converse. 

Peter looked unconvinced.

“In what universe is that going to end well for you?” he asked.

Stiles stood up and patted the man on the chest as he walked past him.

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” he called over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

He was gone before Peter could even try to follow him.   
____________  
Back in his own bedroom, Stiles made himself comfortable. He told his dad that he was feeling sick the night before, just in case he came home while Stiles was away from his body and thought to try to wake him. 

He took off his pants and shirt and got under the covers of his bed as if he were taking a nap. He closed his eyes and concentrated on letting go of his physical form. In seconds he was hovering above his body.

It was disturbing to see how motionless it was without him, not even moving to take in air. 

It was even easier to move in this form. This way, he was free, unrestricted, nothing but a shadow in the corner of your vision. He took advantage of his state to check in on Derek.

The werewolf was working out. What else was new. At least he wasn’t pouring over some old dusty bestiary or talking to his good friend Chris Argent or anything. 

Stiles concentrated until he was in the familiar halls of the school. Very few people were walking about, so classes must have already started. He checked a few classrooms until he found the one he was looking for. 

As soon as he entered, he saw Lydia’s head perk up. She looked around as if confused and the teacher took the opportunity to ask her to solve the problem on the board. As she brushed by him, he could feel protection in place around her being. 

Leave it to Lydia to be the first to figure out how to protect herself from possession. 

Gliding past her, Stiles hovered over Allison for a moment. Much less sensitive to the supernatural than Lydia, she didn’t even blink when he brushed up against her. This was going to be way easier than he thought it would be. 

Careful to keep himself separate from her conscious mind, Stiles fit himself comfortably into Allison’s body. He could have just taken control right then, but that wouldn’t do much to sway her. He spent a few minutes gathering her thoughts, figuring out where she had doubts and fears. 

When he had what he needed, he created a nightmare, a horrible circuit of memories in which she or her family members had done terrible things to innocent people. He made the fear and pain in their victim’s eyes clear enough to feel. Kate, Allison’s favorite aunt, her role model, appeared in every single memory, deformed in death and looking every bit the monstrosity that she was. 

Nightmare fabricated, he shoved Allison into it, taking control of her body so that it didn’t slump as she navigated her unconscious. 

Lydia sat back down at the desk next to Allison, looking at her with concern.

“Allison, are you ok?” she whispered.

Stiles turned slightly towards her, not pausing in his note-taking, and winked. 

Lydia only looked more concerned when she turned back to the board, but Stiles wasn’t very worried about her connecting the dots. He could hear Allison screaming and trying to tear her way out of the nightmare, but it took almost no effort to keep her there. 

Stiles continued taking notes until about three minutes before the bell. Drawing from his many classes spent doing nothing but doodling into his notepad, Stiles sketched dark forests, sharp teeth, and glowing eyes. He covered the rest of the page with the word “MONSTER” scrawled over and over again broken up by the occasional “YOU.” 

He was actually very proud of the outcome. The second the bell rang he jerked Allison back to consciousness, releasing his hold on her body and retreating into her subconscious to watch. 

Allison gasped and her whole body jerked as she came back to reality. Lydia was standing over her desk looking down at her with concern and not a little fear. 

“Allison, what are you doing?” she asked shakily. 

Allison blinked at her friend then glanced down at the notebook in front of her. A rush of sickness filled her as she was reminded of the horrible nightmare that had felt so real and she dashed to the girl’s room, abandoning her things.

When she finished puking, Lydia was already outside the stall with her things.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

Allison rinsed her mouth out in the sink and took a steadying breath.

“Yeah. I just...zoned out I guess,” she said, voice trembling slightly. 

She looked at herself in the mirror and straightened her back. 

“Come on, we’re going to be late for Spanish,” she said with much more confidence. 

Lydia shrugged and followed her as she walked to the next classroom. 

Stiles spent the first half of Spanish finding Allison’s memories of him. He pulled all of the memories where he had displayed compassion, self-sacrifice, and normalcy and created another memory loop. 

He laced the dream with feelings of warmth and friendship and trust. When he was satisfied with what he created, he once again dragged Allison into the dream and took control of her body. 

Stiles wasn’t normally a very good note-taker, but he wasn’t trying to sabotage Allison’s grades, so he wrote down everything that he could, perfectly imitating Allison’s style. 

He could feel guilt and self-blame pulsing through Allison and he couldn’t help smiling in satisfaction. Time would only tell if it would stick, but Stiles was confident that he had at least bought himself a chance to speak on his own behalf. 

When the bell rang this time and he pulled Allison awake, she retook her body peacefully rather than jerking back into it. She blinked slowly as students filed out of the classroom. Lydia tapped on her desk with more annoyance than concern this time. 

“Allison, if you’re sick, just go home. I don’t need to catch anything just because you’re stubborn,” she huffed.

Allison shook her head and grabbed her backpack.

“No really, I’m fine. I think I just didn’t get enough sleep last night or something,” Allison said, turning to walk out the door. 

“Lydia, what were you saying about Stiles the other night?” she added as they walked down to the cafeteria together. 

Stiles smirked to himself and slid his influence out of Allison’s mind. He was back to his own bedroom in a flash and settling into his still body. When he felt comfortably in control he blinked his eyes open and stretched, rubbing his hand through his hair. 

He picked up his phone and sent a quick text to Derek to let him know he was coming over before pulling on his shoes and going into the kitchen to look for snacks to bring. He always did better during a serious discussion when he had something to eat.

He got a text back just as he was fishing a bag of chips from his secret stash of goodies. It was a simple “ok.” Stiles snorted and grabbed a bar of dark chocolate because it didn’t hurt to butter the sourwolf up. 

The big secret was out so there was really no reason to keep up appearances. He teleported right into Derek’s living room and laughed when Derek ran out from his bedroom completely wolfed out.

“Relax, I come in peace,” he said, holding his fingers apart in a star trek peace sign. 

Derek deflated, looking unsure of how to react, then snorted and walked over, throwing himself down on the couch. 

“Honestly, it’s embarrassing that I consider you threatening,” he said.

Stiles laughed and sat on the opposite end of the couch, opening his bag of chips and offering the chocolate bar to Derek who took it with raised eyebrows and a quirked lip. 

“I told you that I wasn’t as weak and pathetic as you make me out to be. You can’t say I lied there,” Stiles said, munching on his chips.

“Yeah, well.You didn’t say anything about being a demon,” Derek mumbled.

“Even Scott didn’t know that. Does it bother you?” he asked. 

“You being a demon? Honestly, no. I knew a lot of different kinds of so-called monsters growing up. In every species there are some who are good and some who aren’t. I try not to pass judgement based on what you are,” Derek replied, finally opening his chocolate. 

“So what is bothering you here?” Stiles asked, honestly confused. 

Derek nibbled on his chocolate, staring down at the cushion in front of him. 

“Peter knew. Since you guys started...getting closer. He knew,” Derek growled. 

Stiles blinked, speechless. He started laughing when Derek pouted which only made him pout even more. 

“Oh my god, Derek, is that it? Peter found out because he’s a creepy stalker who can’t leave well enough alone. If I knew everyone was going to find out I would have told you right after I told Scott,” Stiles said. 

Derek looked up at Stiles, frowning.

“Derek, I’m still the same person, you just know more about me,” Stiles insisted. 

Derek searched Stiles’s face, as if trying to find the truth there. After a few minutes of silence he sighed and looked down at his hands.

“I believe you. And Lydia filled us in on some of your background. I guess it’s just a lot to take in. What with that on top of the fact that you apparently have a thing for my uncle,” Derek made a sour face. 

Stiles shrugged and pat his hand on Derek’s shoulder. 

“I guess this kind of makes me your new uncle, huh,” he said seriously. 

Derek grabbed the pillow behind him and smacked Stiles with it with much more force than necessary. Stiles laughed and tackled him, trying to wrestle the pillow from his grip. They both ended up on the floor and Derek was the first to get up, pillow in hand.

“You know, you’re supposed to be in school right now,” he observed, looking down at Stiles before dropping the pillow on his face. 

Stiles caught the pillow before it could hit him and tucked it under his head. 

“I’m playing hooky. Now go get me a blanket and some seltzer; we’re gonna watch SVU,” Stiles said easily, stretching as he reached for the remote.

“I’m not your servant,” Derek said, walking toward the kitchen anyway. 

“Yeah but I’m older than you so you have to do what I say!” Stiles called as he flipped on the TV.

Derek didn’t reply but Stiles could imagine the eyeroll. He smiled to himself as Derek came back into the living room, dumping a blanket on him and dropping onto the couch. For all that Derek tried to be complex and brooding, he was a remarkably simple person. 

Stiles loved that simplicity, both because it was a refreshing characteristic and because it made for easy molding and manipulation. He was counting today as a win for himself. Derek was on his side and Allison would likely convert when he managed to speak to her personally. 

All that left was Boyd who was not so easily swayed by doubt and who never developed a close enough friendship with Stiles that he could appeal to his affections. So long as Boyd went along with the majority rule and didn’t foster doubt in his pack, Stiles would be fine. 

Now it was just a waiting game. Stiles was patient, he could live with ambiguity. Besides, SVU was on and he had plans for dinner with Peter and Scott later which should be hilarious. He had plenty to distract him while he waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really bad but with Christmas coming up, there's this huge part of me that wants to morph eveything I write into a Christmas fic. So I'm sitting here in the mindset of Demon!Stiles and all of a sudden I just want to throw in mistletoe and a monster that kills naughty children and gift wrapped nudity. It's disconcerting to say the least lol.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter. Sorry for the long gap in updates; I've been distracted by all the free time I have now as ridiculous as that sounds. I'll try to get the next one out faster.

“Sup”

“Dude, did you do something crazy?” Scott immediately asked. 

Stiles smiled and switched to speaker phone so he could keep playing his video game.   
“I played hooky Scott, I didn’t burn down the Whitehouse or anything,” he said. 

“No, I mean you weren’t in school and at the end of the day Allison pulls me aside and suddenly she wants to talk to you and hear your side of the story when she was pretty much all for wasting you before. It just seems like a weird coincidence,” Scott said. 

“Yeah, that does seem like a weird coincidence,” Stiles replied, jumping up from the couch and doing a silent victory dance for beating the level boss. 

Scott was silent for a few moments waiting for him to elaborate. 

“Riiiiight. Ok well I told her we could hang out tomorrow after school if that’s cool. We still on for tonight?” he finally said.

“Yeah that’s fine, you know my whole life is basically video games and pack research. And yeah I can pick you up and give you a ride to Peter’s. Before you ask, I still have no idea where we’re going but knowing Peter it’ll probably be classy so put on a nice shirt or something,” Stiles replied.

“Crap, ok, I’ll find something,” Scott said. 

“It’s a small price to pay for free food, Scotty,” Stiles pointed out. 

“Ugh. Text me when you’re on your way,” Scott said before the line went dead. 

Stiles shut his phone and went back to his game. He still had time to make it through another level.

_____________________________

As it turned out, Stiles did not have time to make it through another level. Rather than leaving it off until later, however, he opted to keep playing anyway.

As soon as he beat the boss (and did a quick victory dance) Stiles ran upstairs, took the fastest shower of his life, threw on some clothes, and bolted out the door. Despite his reckless driving, it was still almost two hours passed their meeting time when he and Scott pulled into the parking lot of Peter’s apartment building. 

Peter was waiting outside, leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette which he stubbed out as soon as he saw the jeep pull in. 

“Hey Peter!” Stiles shouted cheerfully as he rushed out of the car.

“It wasn’t me,” Scott said quickly. 

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“No, and I’m assuming that the reason you two are so late is so stupid that I don’t even want to know?” he said. 

“Correctamundo!” Stiles said cheerfully, “Now let’s go eat, I’m starving!”

Peter rolled his eyes but pulled out his keys anyway and slid into the driver’s seat of his car. Stiles ran around to the passenger seat before Scott even took two steps toward the car. 

He didn’t see it, but he could sense the eyeroll as Scott slid into the backseat. People just didn’t appreciate how amazing he was. 

_____________________

Stiles groaned when they got to the restaurant. He knew Peter liked to eat in nice restaurants but he also knew that Peter knew that he hated the fancy ones. Everything was too ordered, too clean. The temptation to cause some chaos was just too much for Stiles to even be able to enjoy the meal. 

At least Scott was no happier than he was. The moment they stepped inside, he had closed in on himself and stood like he was scared of accidently touching and breaking something. 

Peter smiled and walked up to the hostess like he wasn’t being followed by two moping teenagers. 

“Three for Hale,” he said pleasantly. 

“Oh, you’re right on time, we just cleared up your table,” the girl said cheerfully, grabbing menus and motioning that they should follow her. 

Stiles slapped Peter’s arm. 

“Right on time?” he whispered.

Peter hooked his arm around Stiles’s and leaned closer as they walked. 

“The trick to getting teenagers to be on time for something is to tell them it’s happening much earlier,” he whispered back. 

Scott snorted behind them and the hostess looked back, a little startled. 

“Here we are. Your server will be right over to take your drink order,” she said before heading back the way she came. 

“Oh my god, why are there so many utensils?” Stiles asked when he sat down. 

“There’s a different utensil for each course,” Peter said. 

Scott picked up the folded napkin from in front of him and held it like it was covered in diseases. 

“Is this like, a mini table cloth for your plate?” he asked. 

Stiles laughed and pointed at Scott with the fork he had been inspecting. 

“Dude how have you never encountered this before?! It’s a napkin, just lay it on your lap so you don’t get food all over yourself,” he said.

Scott furrowed his brows like he wasn’t sure that Stiles was telling the truth but laid it on his lap anyway. 

“This place is wasted on you two,” Peter said just as the waitress came over with waters. 

The rest of the meal was relatively uneventful. Scott looked at the server like she had two heads when she placed a covered dish in front of him. The waitress seemed to take quite a liking to Peter, flirting with him while he ordered and every time she found an excuse to check on their table. 

Stiles gave in to temptation right after they had finished their salads and tripped a server across the room while he carried a tray full of drinks. They spilled all over a very disgruntled customer. A manager came over and everything. 

When another server came out with the replacement drinks, he tripped her in exactly the same spot. 

Stiles could barely contain his laughter, leaning over his plate and biting his finger. Scott stared at him wide-eyed but he was smiling. Peter just shook his head, grinning like he had seen this coming which he really should have. 

Dessert was topped off with a hissed out argument between Scott and Peter over making copies of Peter’s bestiary for the rest of the pack. Stiles helpfully made points for both sides and was a little disappointed when the argument ended in silent glaring instead of an all-out brawl. 

By the time the three made it back to Peter’s apartment building everyone was laughing and joking again. Scott especially seemed much more relaxed once they left the restaurant. 

“I told Dad that I’m sleeping at your place tonight for a study session so you can just take my car home and I’ll meet you there in the morning,” Stiles said, tossing his keys to his friend.

“So I’m covering for your illicit relationships now?” Scott asked.

“Whoa buddy, relationship. And do I need to remind you about all the times I covered for your illicit relationship with Allison?” Stiles replied. 

Scott snorted and exited the car, muttering a quick thank-you to Peter before pushing the door shut and walking across the parking lot to the jeep. Stiles waited until he pulled onto the road to poke Peter’s arm. 

“If you keep making me go to restaurants like that I’m going to stop letting you fuck me,” he said, grinning despite the warning. 

“You can’t tell me you didn’t have fun,” Peter replied, pulling Stiles’s hand into his lap, “you cost the place two free meals.”

“I did no such thing! I don’t know where you get these kinds of ideas,” Stiles scoffed, pulling his hand back and flicking Peter’s forehead. 

“You owe me one after this,” he said.

Peter tilted his head to the side. 

“Whatever for?” he asked. 

“My, my! Are you so distracted by your undying love for me that you forgot about all of your evil plots?” Stiles gasped dramatically. 

Peter made a face.

“You’re going to kill me if I go through with my ‘evil plots’ remember?” he said. 

“Good memory,” Stiles said, “I will. But tonight presented you with another opportunity. By getting closer to Scott and gaining his trust, you can earn yourself a more stable position in the pack.” 

“Ah, so I owe you,” Peter said, looking thoughtful, “And I don’t suppose I could pay you back with mind-blowing sex?”

Stiles laughed. 

“Oh, I’m going to get that anyway. You can pay me back by having my back when it comes down to dealing with Boyd,” he said.

Peter looked mildly surprised. He opened and closed his mouth like he was going to say something then decided not to. 

“Of course,” he finally said, “Now about the mind-blowing sex…”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot of fun to write so I hope you enjoy it. It's really the first half of a long chapter but I wanted to break it up.

 The next day at school was almost surreal. Allison met Scott at his locker in the morning and spoke to Stiles like nothing was wrong. No one dropped the ‘D’ word even though it lingered as the clear elephant in the room between them. Still, it was way more progress than Stiles could have hoped for.

 

Derek must have called off his puppies too because Erica and Isaac joined him and Lydia at lunch. Boyd was conspicuously absent, but no one mentioned him other than to reassure Stiles that he just needed some time to process.

 

By the time the final bell rang and Stiles joined the sea of students migrating towards the parking lot, Stiles felt like he was on cloud nine. He wasn’t an idiot. Stiles knew that even if everything went completely smoothly and the pack accepted him for what he was, he would still be in a dangerous position.

 

Just having the knowledge of what he was gave the pack the power to discover not only his strengths, but his weaknesses as well. Not to mention his ‘extra-curricular activities’. There was no way in hell that the pack would tolerate his methods of stress release.

 

The risk existed that the pack could stumble across accurate information (rare as it may be) about demons and their needs and become suspicious of how he maintains stability. That shit-storm would quite likely land him right back in hell.

 

“Stiles,” said a voice that Stiles was definitely not expecting to hear.

 

He froze mid-step and made an about-face.

 

“Boyd,” Stiles said cheerfully, “Long time no see!”

 

Boyd’s poker face was as impressive as ever. He grunted in reply and put his hand between Stiles’s shoulder blades, guiding them away from the crowd.

 

“I think we need to talk,” he said, leaning against the wall beside them.

 

Stiles tried to read what Boyd was thinking, but he looked as calmly disinterested as he usually did. He kept his own face carefully neutral.

 

“So talk,” he said, mirroring Boyd’s position.

 

“Not here,” Boyd said, standing up straight, “let’s go somewhere quieter.”

 

Stiles shrugs and gestures for Boyd to lead the way. They end up in the parking lot. Stiles looked wistfully at his jeep as they passed it by. He honestly didn’t have time for a heart to heart right now. He was supposed to be meeting Allison and Scott at the café in town. Still, this was too good an opportunity to pass up.

 

Boyd led Stiles around the building to an old, beat-up Volvo. He turned around and leaned against the trunk, crossing his arms and looking at Stiles. Most of the cars had left the lot by now, and none of the stragglers were on this side of the building so it was just the two of them.

 

“Why don’t you start?” Stiles said.

 

Boyd glanced at his watch then met Stiles’s eyes.

 

“Everyone seems to be ok having you in the pack and knowing what you are. They think that you’re harmless. I don’t agree with that assessment,” he said, monotone.

 

“Oh?” Stiles intoned, careful to keep the smile off his face, “Have I ever given you a reason to feel that way?”

 

Boyd opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the trill of a cellphone. He shut his mouth and fished his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the caller id before flipping the phone open and bringing it up to his ear.

 

“Yeah,” he said.

 

Stiles waited, a little irritated that the call couldn’t wait. It always annoyed him when people took calls while he was speaking with them, even though he often did it himself.

 

“Yeah, hang on,” Boyd said moving the phone away from his ear and fiddling with it.

 

He held it up between himself and Stiles and Stiles looked at it curiously.

 

“Ok, go ahead,” Boyd said.

 

Stiles opened his mouth to ask what he was doing when he heard the tinny voice of Chris Argent echoing out of the speaker.

 

“ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…”_

 

Stiles felt his body seize up as the words washed over him. His jaw locked shut and his vision went black. He screamed in his head and fought back against the force trying to expel him from his body.

 

He managed to regain control and was just about to lash out when he felt himself tumbling forward and crashing into a hard surface.

 

He blinked and his vision came back just in time for him to see the trunk door slam shut above him. He focused his will and tried to shove against the door but nothing happened. Blinking in confusion, he looked down and groaned.

 

Leave it to an Argent to figure out how to draw an accurate Devil’s Trap. He thumped his head against the trunk’s hard floor and sighed. He felt his pockets and was glad to find that he still had his cellphone.

 

He couldn’t make a phone call, Boyd would hear that. He scrolled through his contacts and began to compose a text message as the car engine roared to life.

 

“ _I’m in the trunk of Boyd’s car. There’s a Devil’s Trap and I don’t know where we’re going so just tap into the GPS on my phone and come get me. Don’t even tell me you can’t I know you were tracking me a few months ago_ ,” he wrote.

 

He waited a few minutes, trying to figure out what direction they were heading in but he was always bad at that kind of stuff so he gave up pretty quickly. His phone buzzed and he held it above his face to read the message.

 

“ _On it. No I wasn’t, you’re delusional,_ ” Peter wrote.

 

Stiles sniggered and splayed out as best as he could in the cramped space while he waited for whatever scheme Boyd had concocted—well, maybe Chris should get the credit for this—to play out.

 

He wasn’t very nervous. If they wanted to just exorcise him and be done with it, there was really no need to even leave the parking lot. Once Boyd got him in the Trap—and that had happened only because he hadn’t expected the attack—Chris could have simply finished the ritual over the phone.

 

No, they were taking him somewhere private and they were taking him alive. They wanted something from him. Whether that was an explanation of how he was able to so easily infiltrate the pack and play human or information about other demons and their weaknesses, they needed him alive.

 

Hell, Chris might know way more about demons than Stiles was giving him credit for. He could be looking to get Stiles’s true name so he could have a convenient demonic minion.

 

Whatever the reason, keeping him whole only gave him more time to turn the tables on them.

 ---------------------------

Peter was cleaning his apartment when his phone went off. He turned off the vacuum—because Peter was just paranoid enough to be able to pick out the beep of his cellphone over the sound of the vacuum—and opened the text message.

 

It took him a second to process Stiles’s request. There was no way in hell that Boyd had come up with this kidnapping on his own and therein laid the danger.

 

 Peter could think of only two people who Boyd might have reached out to: Deaton and Argent. Peter had no problem taking on Argent. He was confident that he could take him down. It would be well deserved anyway, for harboring his murdering bitch of a sister and his vile father for so long.

 

Deaton presented a different kind of problem. Peter was not entirely sure that he could go head to head against the druid in a fair fight and win. The circumstances didn’t allow him much preparation so he simply opened his laptop, tracked Stiles’s phone, and hoped for the best as he walked out the door.

 

Stiles had made him promise to help him deal with Boyd. It was a smart move, to be sure. It required him to be helpful even when doing so risked his own life and standing in the pack.

 

Peter was still surprised that Stiles had wasted Peter’s supposed debt on Boyd. Fortunately for Stiles, Peter was stupid enough and enamored enough with the demon that he would have laid his own neck on the line regardless. If he wanted to think that he was forcing Peter’s hand, well, that was probably for the best anyway.

 --------------------------------

The car stopped about twenty minutes later. Stiles tensed in manic anticipation. He couldn’t wipe the toothy grin from his face if he tried.

 

The trunk door popped up and Stiles squinted against the sudden burst of light. When his vision adjusted, he realized that Boyd was standing over him but frowning at something beyond his field of vision.

 

“Do you have him?”

 

Stiles quickly dampened his smile. He didn’t want to give Argent any reason to exorcise him sooner. He still needed to buy some time.

 

“Yeah,” Boyd grunted, eyes shifted back to Stiles.

 

Stiles raised his eyebrow as if to say “really, you’re siding with Argent here?”

 

Boyd shook his head and took a step back just as Chris Argent crowded the space in front of him.

 

“So I’m a little confused as to why I’m being kidnapped, seeing as how I’ve never done anything but help you kill bad guys,” Stiles said, propping himself up on his elbows.

 

Chris laughed in disbelief.

 

“You know, there is very little accurate information floating the hunting community on demons. One thing that we do know is that they are clever and they are patient. You’ve been here for quite a while if your story is to be believed. The question I have is why?” he said.

 

Stiles stared at him like he was crazy.

 

“I thought Lydia already covered that?” Stiles said.

 

“Lydia told the pack a nice story about a demon with good intentions who wants to play human. I don’t want to hear a story, I want to know why you’re here and who else is involved in whatever you are planning,” Chris said sternly.

 

Stiles didn’t have to fake the insulted expression that flitted across his face. Stiles rarely told the truth about anything. He was a downright compulsive liar. As a demon, he really had to be. Yet even still, he had actually truthfully told his friends about himself. He had never lied to them except for when it was necessary or convenient. Quite frankly, he had gone above and beyond his truth quota for the century with the pack.

 

And here stood Chris Argent, calling him a liar.  

 

“I don’t know what you think you know about demons, but we’re not all criminal masterminds. I wasn’t telling a story I was telling. The. Truth!” Stiles practically shrieked at the end.  

 

Chris smiled and signaled at Boyd who walked around to the front of the car.

 

“Maybe I don’t know as much about demons as I think I do,” Chris said, sounding a lot smugger than he had a right to be, “but there is one thing that I know for sure.”

 

Boyd came back with what looked like a gallon of water and handed it to Chris who held it up for Stiles to examine before flicking the lid off.

 

Oh shit. This was going to suck.

 

“I know that this is going to hurt,” Chris said.

 

Stiles had three seconds to brace himself before an entire gallon of holy water splashed across his face and body. He screamed and tore at his own skin as the water burned past flesh and into muscle. He thrashed around, slamming limbs in the tight space of the trunk.

 

It felt like ages before the water evaporated and the pain dulled into a throb beneath his skin. He could feel the scratches on his face and neck already healing. He moaned and turned his head to the side, assessing his situation.

 

He kept his face carefully blank as he scanned the markings beneath him until he found what he was looking for. One section of the circle had been damaged enough by the water that there was a miniscule gap.

 

He smiled to himself for a moment before turning back to face Argent who was standing over him with a frown on his face. He never was the type to get off on the pain of others. It was one of the reasons Stiles bore the man some modicum of respect.

 

“We have plenty more where that came from if you need more motivation,” he said.

 

Stiles feigned pain, wincing and groaning loudly, as he sat up in the trunk.

 

“Ok, ok. You got me. Let me give you a piece of information to make up for my reluctance to fit your stereotype,” he said, lifting his hands parallel to his chest.

 

Chris unconsciously took a step back and his expression shifted to anger. Boyd growled low behind him.

 

“Some of the older and more powerful demons are telekinetic,” he said as he pushed his hands forward, causing the hunter and the werewolf to fly backwards a few feet and skid to a halt on the ground.

 

Chris pulled a gun from the holster on his ankle and Boyd wolfed out.

 

“How did you…” Boyd started to growl out before Stiles had them both in the air again, this time colliding with each other hard enough that they were both out cold.

 

Stiles sighed and stepped out of the trunk. He dusted himself off and straightened his clothes as best he could. He thought about just leaving them there, but then again, they had shoved him into the trunk of a car.

 

Stiles carefully dragged Argent, then Boyd—who weighed like, a million pounds, jeez—over to Boyd’s car and laid them down in the opened trunk. Once they were both crammed inside, he slammed the door down and sat on top of it. Pulling out his phone to play Pacman, he kicked his legs over the side of the car and settled in as he waited for Peter to finally show up. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt so bad about how long the last chapter took me to get out there so here's another one! There's some smut in this one too if that makes anyone happy.

Peter didn’t know what he expected to find when he pulled into the long, unpaved driveway but it certainly wasn’t this.

 

Stiles twisted where he sat atop Boyd’s old Volvo, waving enthusiastically when he saw Peter’s car pulling in before turning his attention back to his phone.

 

Peter parked his car and got out carefully, scenting the air. He could smell Boyd and, luckily enough, Chris Argent. He glanced around, trying to figure out where the scents were coming from.

 

“Scott is so pissed at me! I ignored most of his texts because I was on a roll with Pacman. Can you text him to let him know that I had an emergency and I’m going to be super late?” Stiles called out, still fiddling with his phone.

 

Peter rolled his eyes.   


“Text him yourself. And what happened? Where are Boyd and Argent?”  Peter asked as he walked up to the car, noticing that the scents grew stronger as he went.

 

A groan followed by the rustling of clothing caught his ear.

 

“Are they…did you put them in the trunk?” he asked.

 

Stiles finally put down his phone and hopped off the car, patting the trunk hard.

 

“I was just returning the favor,” he said smiling, “Are you ready to be my super intimidating henchman?”

 

Peter crossed his arms.

 

“Suddenly I feel like I wasted my time coming to rescue you,” he said.

 

“Oh hush,” Stiles said, “I only got out because of dumb luck and stupidity on their part.”

 

Stiles lifted the trunk door open and backed away as Boyd rolled his way out, sitting on the dirt while he got his bearings. Chris was only just staring to rouse as the fresh air hit him.

 

“Hey guys, I’m ready to continue our conversation whenever you are!” Stiles shouted cheerfully.

 

Boyd glared up at him and Chris stumbled out of the trunk, making an effort to glare but only managing to grimace in pain.

 

Peter had to respect Stiles’s showmanship as he crouched down right in Boyd’s space, smiling like he was sharing a secret.

 

“Boyd, I am a demon. I don’t mean you or the pack any harm, but as you so dramatically pointed out, I am certainly not harmless. I don’t want to hurt you. In fact, I want what’s best for you. But cross me again? And it will be the last thing you ever do,” he whispered.

 

He winked and Boyd scowled but looked away as he digested the threat.

 

“Chris!” Stiles said loudly, straightening up and moving in front of the hunter, “You probably have a concussion so maybe get a lift home with Boyd. About your concerns? There is a theory that states that when you are presented with two solutions to one problem, the simplest one is most likely the correct one. I have not spent two generations enacting some elaborate plan. I’m much more spontaneous than that. If you doubt my intentions and my place in the pack, talk to my alpha. I have zero desire to be your enemy, Argent. Why not just let sleeping dogs lie?”

 

The man looked hard into Stiles’s eyes as if searching for his answers there. Stiles didn’t back down, and eventually the man nodded and reached a hand down to help Boyd to his feet.

 

Peter stood a few feet back, trying not to smirk. He doubted that Argent would try this again. The man was a werewolf hunter, and he went by the code. He had no proof that Stiles had ever hurt anyone and had Boyd not come with concerns, he probably would have stayed out of the situation completely.

 

Boyd was another story. He still had options if he really wanted to pursue this. He would almost certainly lose his pack in the process, however, and Peter doubted that he was stupid enough to risk becoming an omega.

 

Still, he was a risk. They would have to be particularly careful knowing that he would be looking for Stiles to step out of line. One whiff of old bloodstains and he could be set on the warpath again, this time seeking more qualified allies.

 

“Sorry that you didn’t get to swoop in and save the day,” Stiles said, wrapping Peter into a close hug as Boyd and Chris pulled away from the beat-up old cabin.

 

Peter’s lips quirked into a smile and he wrapped his arms around Stile’s thin frame, letting his hand wander down until they settled in his back pockets.

 

“It was still a good show. Certainly worth the ride,” he responded.

 

Stiles leaned in and planted a firm kiss on Peter’s lips.

 

“Do you want to give me a ride to Scott’s house? He and Allison ended up leaving the café and I told them I would meet them there,” Scott said quietly.

 

Peter raised an eyebrow.

 

“Wouldn’t it just be easier for you to get there now?” he asked.

 

Stiles shrugged as best he could with his arms wrapped around Peter.

 

“Believe it or not, I like going on car rides. Plus, I figure I should spend some time with you since you came to rescue me and all,” he said smiling.

 

Stiles twisted out of Peter’s hold, skipping over to his car. Instead of getting in, however, he stopped and stretched his upper body over the hood, holding his head in his hands and smiling.

 

Peter smirked and was on him so fast that the boy practically cackled beneath him.  

 

“Someone’s excited,” Stiles laughed, grinding back against Peter, eliciting a low growl.

 

“I’m quite the fan of displays of power,” he said, raking his claws down Stiles’s back, shedding fabric and skin, “especially when I get a turn.”

 

Stiles’s moan rang more of pleasure than pain. He squirmed his way out of his torn clothing before reaching behind him to tug at Peter’s jeans, silently begging him to take them off.

 

Peter swatted his hands away and started working at the buttons of Stiles’s jeans instead. He backed up only enough to tear the boy’s jeans down along with his boxers. He pulled his own slacks down only enough for him to pull himself out.

 

Peter fed three fingers to Stiles who sucked on them enthusiastically. He couldn’t help running them through the blood pooling at Stiles’s lower back.

 

He opened Stiles up quickly and efficiently with blood and saliva before spitting into his palm and wetting his own dick. He lined himself up and it was fast and hard from there. Peter’s shirt soaked up Stiles’s blood as he leaned into Stiles’s body. Stiles panted and moaned when he dug his claws into his hips deep enough that he was scratching bone.

 

The breathy moans that Stiles made and the sound of flesh on flesh coupled with the thick scent of blood in the air drove Peter to the brink. His thrusts became erratic and he growled out his completion just as Stiles managed to reach his own.

 

They lay there for a few minutes, slumped over the car. Stiles—as usual—was the first to recover. He began laughing light-heartedly and pushing at Peter until he straightened up with a groan.

 

“Oh, stop. You’re like an old man,” Stiles said, stretching out as Peter fixed his pants and plucked at his ruined shirt.

 

Stiles looked at the blood on Peter then twisted around to look at his own back.

 

“Well, I can’t exactly go to Scott’s half naked with blood everywhere,” he looked at the empty cabin then back at Peter, “Do you think there are some clothes in there? And a shower?”

 

Peter smiled and shook his head, stripped his shirt off. There was really no way to save it.

 

“Only one way to find out,” he said.

 ------------------------------------

It was dark outside by the time Stiles reached Scott’s house, clean and clothed. He waved at Peter as he pulled out of the driveway. He hadn’t been kidding about enjoying car rides. It was nice having that short time to orient himself to whatever he was doing next.

 

Scott’s door opened before he could even turn around to knock. His friend did not look happy.

 

“Stiles,” he grated out, not moving to let him in.

 

“Oh come on, this time it really wasn’t my fault! Boyd and Allison’s dad kidnapped me!” he whined.

 

Scott’s mouth dropped open in surprise and his grip on the door loosened. Stiles used this momentary distraction to duck inside. He stopped when he realized that Allison was standing by the stairs, glaring at him.

 

Stiles felt a pang in his chest at the look of betrayal in her eyes.

 

“Allison, I’m sorry. I was so glad that you wanted to talk to me but I was kidnapped right after school. It was just bad timing,” he said frowning.

 

Confusion colored Allison’s expression.

 

“He says Boyd and your dad kidnapped him? Why? What happened?” Scott said, coming up behind Stiles and signaling for the two to follow him into the living room.

 

“Your mom’s working?” Stiles asked, uncomfortable with talking too much in front of her lest any information get back to John.

 

“Yeah, ‘til midnight. Now tell me what happened,” Scott said, frustrated.

 

Stiles sighed and threw himself onto a soft, leather armchair. He usually sat on the couch but he figured Allison and Scott might want a little space for now. Scott must have noticed his odd choice in seating because he lifted his eyebrows before sitting down next to Allison.

 

“So after school Boyd said he wanted to talk to me, but he wanted to go somewhere private. Long story short, I end up in the trunk of Boyd’s car in the middle of nowhere with Allison’s dad accusing me of being an evil villain and dowsing me in holy water. It really wasn’t all that exciting,” he said.

 

If Allison could open her eyes any wider they would probably pop out of her head. Scott was frowning hard at Stiles, sympathy warring with anger in his eyes as they flashed between brown and red.

 

“I explicitly told Boyd to leave you alone. Not only did he attack a pack mate,” Scott growled out as his nails grew and cut into his own jeans, “but he disobeyed his alpha’s direct order. My wolf is literally seething. If Boyd were to show up here right now, I honestly don’t know what would happen.”

 

Allison ran a soothing hand along Scott’s hand where it was digging into his thighs. She squeezed tight and Scott seemed to relax a bit, the tension melting out of his shoulders. He smiled at her ruefully before focusing on Stiles again.

 

“How did they end this? Did they just let you go?” he asked.

 

Stiles snorted and shook his head. Allison began to look worried again.

 

“Allison, your dad is fine. Boyd too. I managed to get out of the Devil’s Trap they had in the car and I just knocked them out for a bit. I told them I wasn’t going to hurt them or the pack, but that if I’m attacked again, I won’t hesitate to retaliate,” he said, hoping he had cushioned the threat enough that Allison didn’t perceive him as a threat to her father.

 

Luckily, Allison only nodded. She sat tight lipped as Scott nodded to himself and smiled at his best friend.

 

“I think that’s fair. We’ll have a pack meeting this weekend and hopefully everyone can get all of their concerns out in the open and we can all get on the same page already,” he said.

 

“So Allison, did you have any questions for me? I can make a blood oath to you that nothing I say to you for the next two hours will be a lie if you want me too,” Stiles said, getting back to the matter at hand.

 

Allison sucked in a breath, clearly not expecting that offer. Scott looked confused but Allison seemed to understand the gravity of what he had just offered because she nodded and stood up. Stiles met her halfway and offered his hand to her.

 

“If I do this,” he said, pulling his hand back before she could grip it, “I need you to make an oath never to speak my real name or write it down.”

 

He looked at her sternly and surprisingly, she smiled back.

 

“Well I can’t expect you to do something that I wouldn’t,” she said, offering up her own hand.

 

“Scott, my man, would you do the honors?” Stiles asked.

 

Scott sat looking from one person to the other.

 

“Dude, I don’t even know what you want me to do,” he complained, finally standing up to join them.

 

“It’s fine, we just need you to cut our palms enough to draw blood,” Stiles assured him.

 

“Ready?” he asked Allison who nodded and straightened her spine.

 

“Ready. We’ll do it together so it’s fair to both of us,” she replied.

 

Stiles winked at her and smiled, starting off his oath.

 

“I, Svyatoslav Tadeusz Benik, demon of the cross roads and keeper of souls,” he intoned.

 

“I, Allison Sylvia Argent, hunter and heiress of the Argent legacy,” Allison followed.

 

“swear by the blood in my veins and the life in my body,” he continued.

 

“swear by the blood in my veins and the life in my body,” Allison repeated.

 

“that no lie shall cross my lips for two hours from the binding of this oath,” he finished.

 

“that never shall I speak your true name or write it down,” Allison said.

 

They both looked at Scott expectantly, who just stared back at them with a furrowed brow.

 

“Pssst, Scotty, that’s your cue!” Stiles hissed, smiling.

 

“Oh, yeah, right,” Scott said shaking himself out of his thoughts and grabbing first Stiles then Allison to slice a mark across their palms with a claw. The two shook hands, exchanging blood and Stiles felt the power rushing up his arm.

 

Allison visibly shivered when they pulled away and immediately the mood lightened. Stiles sat back down in the chair he vacated.

 

“Wait, Stiles! Shouldn’t I make an oath too?” Scott asked suddenly.

 

Stiles looked at him seriously for a moment.

 

“Scott, I broke your trust all these years. And I know you say it’s ok, but deep down, it’s really not. I’ve never, in all the centuries that I have been alive, valued someone more than I did Mary and I do you. I messed up the trust we had, so this is my gift to you. You know my name, you know the power that exists behind my name, and I’m trusting you to hold onto that knowledge,” he said.

 

Scott blinked at him, shocked.

 

“Wow, Stiles, I mean I would never tell anyone or anything, but that means a lot,” he said in awe.

 

Stiles sank down onto the couch next to Allison who was gripping a balled up tissue to staunch the bleeding in her hand.

 

“Ok, so what do you want to talk about, Miss Allison?” Stiles asked.

 

Looking a lot more confident and willing to talk than she had earlier, Allison smiled at him.

 

“I figured you could start from the beginning and tell me the story that you told Lydia,” she said.

 

Stiles smiled and launched into a retelling of his life story as it pertained to Beacon Hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Stiles is still Polish in my headcannon even when he's a centuries old demon haha. ARE YOU GUYS READY FOR 3B TO START TOMORROW CUZ I SURE AS SHIT AM!!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some psychopath fluffy fluff.

“I own your soul you know,” Stiles said one night while he lay curled up into Peter’s side.

 

Peter was silent for a moment.

 

“You mean figuratively or…” he said hesitantly.

 

“No, I mean literally. Like I literally own your soul,” Stiles said, tracing patterns on Peter’s stomach.

 

Peter stared at the ceiling for a few minutes with a frown on his face. Stiles just continued drawing circles with his finger, entranced by the movement.

 

Finally Peter sighed.

 

“Well I knew I was giving up my soul when I came back to life, but I didn’t realize I was selling it to a demon,” he said.

 

Stiles snorted.

 

“Only angels and demons can revive the dead. What did you think you were selling it to?” he asked

 

“Honestly, I just thought I wouldn’t have a soul anymore,” Peter admitted.

 

“Hmm,” Stiles hummed, “Well that does sound nice I suppose, non-existence.”

 

Peter turned his head to face Stiles and quirked his lips.

 

“So that’s what you really look like, huh?” he said with humor in his voice.

 

Stiles scrunched his face and smacked his hand against Peter’s stomach.

 

“What? It’s not my fault you’re just a blob of black smoke,” Peter said laughing.

 

“Excuse you! I’m a very attractive blob of black smoke!” Stiles said in mock offense.

 

Peter kept laughing and Stiles pulled away only to be dragged back by strong arms.

 

“Ok, haha very funny, Peter,” Stiles said as he relaxed into Peter’s iron grip, “I had a point you know.”

 

Peter’s laughter slowly faded until he was only chuckling lightly.

 

“What was your point, Stiles? That I’m your bitch?” Peter asked, smiling.

 

“Well yes, that’s true. But no. My point is, I can keep you forever if I want,” Stiles said, squirming around until he was facing Peter again.

 

Peter looked at him with a furrowed brow.

 

“Do you want to have me forever?” he asked quietly.

 

Stiles felt the weight of Peter’s stare. Heat flooded his chest and he felt genuine emotion swelling up inside of him. Naturally, he punched it back down. He shot Peter a toothy grin.

 

“I always wanted a puppy,” he said and Peter surged up, straddling his hips and tickling Stiles in all the spots that he knew got to him. 

“No! Peter! I meant wolf! Wolf!” Stiles shouted as he cackled and squirmed, trying to buck Peter off with his hips.

 

Stiles halted his movements and Peter froze, his eyes flashing blue.

 

“How does it feel being restrained by someone stronger than you, huh?” Stiles said smirking.

 

He gently tipped Peter off balance and released his control and Peter tumbled onto the bed next to him. He huffed in lieu of an answer and wrapped his arms back around Stiles, pulling him into his chest.

 

They laid there for a long time and just as Stiles though Peter had fallen asleep, the man whispered into his hair.

 

“Forever doesn’t sound so bad.”

 

Stiles smiled and closed his eyes. He listened to Peter’s even breathing and thought about what it would be like to actually keep Peter with him in Beacon Hills.

 

Peter was right. It really didn’t sound so bad.

 

===================

 

Peter never expected that his revival would cost him his freedom. He never expected that not to bother him. Forever with Stiles should sound stifling and excessive. Instead, it just felt right, like that was just the way it was supposed to be.

 

Sometimes Peter doubted how much Stiles really felt. Stiles spoke about his emotional reactions to friends and family and Peter sometimes noticed a disconnect between what one would expect him to feel and the shallow nature of his true emotions. Peter didn’t mind. He’d been the same way ever since the fire.

 

He couldn’t even feel anything but a dull fraction of the love he had felt before when he thought about his wife. Stiles was the first thing to draw any kind of deep emotional reaction from him. It should be scary after all this time, and it was.

 

But Stiles wanted him forever so he had forever to find out how this worked.

 

Peter can’t remember when he fell asleep with Stiles in his arms but soon he was jolted awake by the trill of a cell phone.

 

Stiles huffed and reached for his phone.

 

“Do you know what time it is?” Stiles asked, his voice heavy with sleep though Peter knew that he could only lie awake at night.

 

“Dude, you don’t...eat people do you?” Scott’s voice sounded through the phone.

 

Peter snorted and Stiles reached back to slap his chest lightly.

 

“Oh my God, what do you think?” Stiles said in disbelief, a smile in his voice.

 

“Ok, sorry. Sorry, that wasn’t cool. But Derek found a body in the woods and I just...I don’t know. Do you and Peter want to check it out?” Scott said.

 

Stiles glanced over at Peter, who merely shrugged, and sighed.

 

“Can it wait until morning? Peter is sleeping,” Stiles asked.

 

Peter squeezed Stiles closer and Stiles patted his arm.

 

“Yeah that’s what I meant anyway. We want to meet at the Hale house at 6 and we can go from there,” Scott replied.

 

“Alright I’ll see you then,” Stiles said before snapping his phone shut and throwing it onto the floor.

 

“More bodies, huh?” Peter murmured.

 

“Well, it’s Beacon Hills, what do you expect?” Stiles said, laughing.

 

“Oh, joy,” Peter grunted before drifting back to sleep.

 

Stiles made no move to leave and a (large) part of Peter hoped that he would still be there in the morning.

 

========================================

 

Stiles felt the manic energy buzzing beneath his skin. It had been far too long since he’d brutally murdered something. He had planned on going hunting last night but every time he told himself that it was time to go he would get caught up in the rhythm of Peter’s breath and heartbeat and he just stayed put.

 

He hadn’t moved at all, in fact, until Peter woke up. It was the first time he had ever seen the werewolf wake up and for all that it was simple, it was strangely, breathtakingly beautiful. Almost as beautiful as Peter’s wide, sleepy smile.

 

All in all it was worth it. He just hoped the hunt for whatever supernatural creature was stalking about Beacon Hills wouldn’t take too long. He needed to kill something now.

 

“Soooo, you thought I did this?” Stiles said incredulously as he gestured to the mutilated, half-eaten remains of what was once (probably) a human being.

 

Scott had the decency to blush.

 

“No, I was just, urgh. Don’t worry about it,” he stammered.

 

“What on earth is that smell?” Peter asked, scrunching his nose.

 

“That smell is how I found this body,” Derek chimed in, “It was coming in through my window and I went to follow it. The trail ended here.”

 

Stiles could smell death and decay in the air with his very human nose, so he could only imagine what the werewolves were smelling.

 

“So you were just smelling the body? From that far away?” Erica asked.

 

“It can’t be the body, it smells like old death. This body can’t be dead more than 24 hours,” Peter said.

 

“What could have done something like this?” Allison asked.

 

Everyone was silent for a few moments when something clicked in Stiles’s head.

 

“Oh!” he exclaimed. The wolves turned their attention to him.

 

“Oh, oh, oh! I can’t believe I didn’t think of this right away! I know what did this!”

 

“What is it?” Lydia asked.

 

“Mary went through a phase where she was obsessed with Native American folklore. She told me about all their myths and monsters. She was particularly fascinated with one that smelled of death and ate human flesh,” Stiles paused and looked around to see if anyone was with him yet. Lydia’s eyes lit up but everyone else just stared back at him blankly.

 

“A wendigo!” he exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his arms.

 

“Oh, yeah sure, a wendigo,” Isaac said.

 

Scott and Stiles both stared him down until he put his hands up in surrender.

 

“I’m just saying, none of us have any idea what that is or how to kill it,” he said.

 

“Stiles, do you know how to kill it?” Scott asked, turning to his friend.

 

“Severe damage to its heart or head should be sufficient. Some say that the body must be burned for it to stay dead,” Lydia recited.

 

Everyone turned to look at her in surprise. Stiles just smiled and winked at her.

 

“What? I acquainted myself with the supernatural once I realized how much of it really existed,” Lydia said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

 

“No, Lydia, that’s great,” Scott said, “So Stiles, let your dad know about this. He’ll want to bring in the body so they can identify it. We’ll meet up at Derek’s after school so we can figure out how we’re going to track this thing down.”

  
Stiles was so ready for this monster hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lydia is just so perfect <3 Thanks again to everyone who has been reading and enjoying this story and especially thank you to everyone who has commented. The feedback is very encouraging and it helps me figure out what is working and what is not.


	15. Chapter 15

“Stiles, where are you going?” Scott hissed as Stiles gathered his things and made to leave the classroom.

 

“I’m ditching chemistry, what does it look like I’m doing,” Stiles whispered back before leaving the room, saluting the substitute as he walked in.

 

He made it to the parking lot before his phone went off.

 

_Told him you got sick. You better have a good reason._

Stiles rolled his eyes as he typed a quick: _thx <3 and I do. _

Truthfully, Stiles was practically buzzing out of his skin with excess energy. If he didn’t funnel it soon he was going to lose control of his body and wouldn’t that just be a fun conversation with John.

 

‘Hi dad, I’m the parasitic entity that’s been wearing your dead son around like a meat suit. Don’t worry though, once I kill a few people I should be right as rain and ready to continue impersonating your dead child.’

 

Yeah. Not gonna happen.

 

And so Stiles drove his jeep home, changed his clothes and headed to Beijing. The city was lively as ever, but Stiles knew the dives that drew in the scum of the streets both night and day. It was in one of these bars that Stiles ran into one of the last people in the entire universe he ever wanted to see.

 

He noticed the demon as soon as he stepped foot in the place and immediately spun around to head back out.

 

“Stiles! Is that you, my friend?” a deep voice called out.

 

Stiles froze and pasted a fake smile on his face before turning around and walking up to the bar to greet the man: exhibit A of Stiles’s bad dating decisions.

 

“Baez, long time no see,” he said, not sounding at all upset about this fact.   

 

Baez smiled knowingly and gestured to the empty seat beside him.

 

“Sit, get a drink on me,” he said, signaling for the barkeeper.

 

The man looked at Stiles with disgust (probably assuming that he was a prostitute because of his age) and couldn’t get to the other end of the bar fast enough when he finished pouring his whiskey on the rocks.

 

“So,” Baez said slowly, “what have you been up to for the last century? I see you’ve changed your suit.”

 

Stiles tried for nonchalant.

 

“Oh you know, this and that. Mostly just dealing. And I must say, your new suit is a little subpar.”

 

Baez quirked an eyebrow and looked bored but he paused for a little too long before speaking and Stiles cursed himself for not coming up with something better. He hoped Baez assumed that Stiles was just still pissed at him for stealing his contracts.

 

Which, he was, but that was beside the point. If Baez had any inkling that Stiles was trying to actually have a life he would destroy it in a heartbeat.

 

“It’s only temporary,” Baez finally answered, looking down at himself, “I need to pay back a witch who tried to summon me to do her bidding. What brings you to Beijing, Stiles? Don’t you normally skulk about that dreadful patch of woods and hicks? What was it? Beacon Hills?”

 

“Yes, I’m still in possession of that territory, something you wouldn’t know much about, hmm?” Stiles said.

 

Baez narrowed his eyes and sipped his drink.

 

“I’m here to relieve a little bit of stress,” Stiles continued, “I’ve had way too much energy to focus lately.”

 

Baez perked up and looked Stiles up and down slowly.

 

“You’re in a dead body? Why on earth would you go through so much trouble?” he asked.

 

Stiles barely contained the wince at his own slip-up, but Baez was smiling as if he realized that he had hit on something.

 

“I like having my own headspace. It’s worth the extra effort for maintenance,” he replied shrugging.

 

“Hmm,” Baez hummed in reply.

 

They sat in tense silence as Baez studied him closely. Deciding that he had done enough damage for one day, Stiles downed his drink and stood up.

 

“Well, I have things to do. I would say it was nice to see you but, well, you know,” Stiles said smiling before turning and walking out of there.

 

He didn’t look back but he could feel Baez’s eyes on him on the whole time.

 

More shaken up than he would like to admit, Stiles found a few low level gang members and painted an alley with their blood and guts before transporting right into his bathroom so he could take a long shower.

 

===============================================

 

By the time he got to Derek’s he was much calmer, his run in with his ex long forgotten. His manic energy was finally expelled and he was at the maintainable level that led him to his ADD diagnoses.

 

 Last period hadn’t ended yet so Stiles was the first one at the loft.

 

“Why aren’t you in school?” Derek asked as soon as he spotted Stiles lounging on the couch.

 

“Oh come on, Sourwolf. I’m 378 years old. If I haven’t learned the basics of math and science by now, then I probably never will,” he said in reply.

 

Derek’s eyes bugged out a little and Stiles laughed at his thrown stance.

 

“That’s right Derek. I am older and wiser than you so you should always listen to everything that I say,” Stiles said, laughing.

 

That jolted Derek right out of his shock. He snorted and walked into the kitchen to grab a bag of pretzels, already predicting Stiles’s request for food. Stiles was touched.

 

“Yeah, ok. Stop skipping school before you fail out and you’re left to explain that to the sheriff,” Derek said, throwing the bag at Stiles and pushing his feet off the couch so he could sit down.

 

Stiles caught the bag before it could hit his face and he propped his feet on top of Derek’s lap.  


“Aw, how precious. Are you worried about your Uncle Stiles?” he cooed.

 

Derek cringed.

 

“Oh god, never say that again. It’s so creepy,” Derek said, putting his hands over his ears.

 

Stiles laughed and threw pretzels at Derek’s head.

 

“Nephew, that’s no way to talk to your favorite Uncle, now is it?” Stiles shouted even though he knew the werewolf would hear him at a normal level.

 

Derek groaned and snatched the bag of pretzels from Stiles’s hands, curling his bulky body around it.

 

“Hey! Derek! Don’t take your Uncle’s pretzels!” Stiles shouted, jumping onto Derek’s back and trying to dig the bag out from under him.

 

Derek didn’t answer him and no matter how he tried, he couldn’t get the pretzels away from the werewolf. He thought about willing him to move, but something told him that doing that would break whatever trust Derek seemed to have in him and he didn’t want to lose that over a snack.

 

“Fine,” Stiles huffed after a few futile minutes of struggling, “Derek, I am sorry for using the ‘u’ word. I probably won’t do it again for at least a few days.”

 

Derek huffed out a laugh but gave Stiles his pretzels back, a triumphant smile on his face.

 

“Alright D-dog, put something on so I can watch TV while you brood,” Stiles said, stuffing a handful of pretzels into his mouth.

 

Derek rolled his eyes but turned the TV on and began to flip through channels.

 

 ===============================

Derek had Stiles in a headlock on the floor when Peter walked into the apartment.

 

“Am I interrupting something?” the man asked slowly.

 

“Peter! Get our nephew off of me! He’s being impudent!” Stiles shouted, gripping Derek’s arm and shrieking when Derek used his hold to give Stiles a noogie

 

“Derek, I don’t understand why you insist on behaving like this. It’s no way to treat family,” Peter admonished, smirking at the glare Derek shot him.

 

“Yeah Derek! What he said!” Stiles shouted.

 

Derek immediately released his hold and threw his hands into the air.

 

“I’m officially done. I need to go wash this whole experience off my skin. Don’t do anything creepy while I’m gone or you’ll both be officially banned from this apartment,” Derek said, retreating to the bathroom.

 

Stiles and Peter smirked at each other.

 

“I don’t know about you, but all I got from that was that we should have wild sex in Derek’s bed,” Stiles said.

 

He giggled at the thump he heard in the bathroom. Peter opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by Derek cracking open the door and shouting at them.

 

“Just go get a fucking pizza or something! Goddammit!”

 

Stiles laid flat on the floor and laughed hard enough that he didn’t even notice Peter getting closer until he was pulling him up by his arms.

 

“Come on, I think you’ve antagonized Derek enough for now. Besides, it’s much easier to deal with a pack of teenagers when you feed them first,” he said, smiling.

 

“Oh alright,” he said, cupping his hands to his mouth to shout at Derek, “Bye Derek! Uncle Stiles will be back soon!”

 

Peter smacked him lightly on the back of his head but it was worth it for the loud growl he heard over the sound of the shower running.  

 ===================================

When Stiles and Peter got back with three large pies, the whole pack was gathered in the living room.

 

“Pizza!” Scott shouted gleefully when he saw them walk in.

 

The rest of the pack immediately turned their attention to the door and eyed the pizza boxes hungrily.

 

“Wow, now I know why they say ‘hungry like the wolf,’” Stiles commented as he went to the cabinet to pull out paper plates for everyone while Peter set the pizza down on the kitchen counter.

 

There was a brief frenzy while everyone rushed to the kitchen to grab a few slices but soon everyone was settled in a loose circle in the living room.

 

“So what’s the game plan?” Stiles asked once everyone had finished at least one slice of pizza in silence.

 

Scott grunted around his mouthful of food. He swallowed as quickly as he could and took a long sip of iced tea before speaking.

 

“Right, ok. So we don’t need to do much preparation for this as far as we can tell right? Tomorrow is Friday; I figure we can split up into groups and sniff this thing out. When someone finds a trail, they can howl and we can all hunt it down together. Sound good?” he said, looking from person to person.

 

“How many people per group?” Allison asked.

 

“We can break up into groups of three, that way we can cover a lot of ground without putting anyone at risk,” Scott replied.

 

“I think that’s a solid plan. I volunteer to go with my uncle and Stiles,” Derek said.

 

Scott looked at Derek in surprise.

 

“Aw, look at that! He finally wants to spend time with his uncles!” Stiles whispered to Peter before Scott could say anything.

 

Derek growled and shoved Stiles hard into Peter.

 

“I want to see what you can do and it’s not like anyone else wants to go with Peter,” he said, pouting. Stiles found it adorable.

 

“Oooook. So that’s fine. Then Boyd, Erica, and Lydia can go together and Me, Isaac, and Allison,” Scott said.

 

Everyone mumbled their assent and the discussion moved on to the chem test tomorrow.

 

“Stiles, why weren’t you in the last few periods of school today?” Boyd asked all of a sudden.

 

Stiles paused with his pizza halfway to his mouth. He looked at it longingly before setting it down on his plate and looking at Boyd.

 

“I needed a mental health day. What with everything that’s been going on lately, I just didn’t feel like dealing with chemistry and calculus today,” he replied easily.

 

Boyd looked at him suspiciously but let the subject drop when Lydia jumped onto the opportunity to talk about how stupid her calc teach was.

 

Stiles wasn’t sure that it was an intentional save until she smiled and winked at him a few minutes later. Reason number 1,500 that Lydia Martin was a goddess in human skin.

 

Boyd was smart. Stiles wasn’t particularly worried that he would hit on something that could jeopardize Stiles’s place in the pack, but he was distrustful enough of what he was that it was only a matter of time before he caught Stiles slipping up.

 

Once this whole wendigo matter was over, he really needed to figure out how to earn Boyd’s trust, for his own sake.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH see end notes if you want specifics

“Ugh, I swear to god, I’m like a beacon for mosquitos,” Stiles muttered, slapping his neck for what felt like the millionth time.

 

“It’s probably your blood type and your clear vitamin D deficiency,” Derek mumbled back.

 

“Are you calling me pale? You’re just jealous of my beautiful fair skin. I’m like a fucking porcelain doll,” Stiles hissed.

 

Derek rolled his eyes and Stiles felt that a punch in the arm was necessary.

 

“Children, can you please settle down. You’re really not helping with the whole element of surprise gambit,” Peter said quietly.

 

Stiles reluctantly fell silent, save for the occasional slap of skin on skin. Fucking mosquitos.

 

A few miles later, Stiles was just too bored to contain himself.

 

“It’s a walking corpse, how can it be this hard to catch that trail?” Stiles whispered.

 

Derek shot him a long-suffering look before stiffening up and looking off to the right of them. Stiles was about to ask him what he noticed when a howl sounded through the trees.

 

“Well, it seems we’ve found it,” Peter said as they ran toward the east end of the preserve.

 

Had Stiles actually been human, he would have probably dropped about halfway there at the pace they were running. As it was, Derek kept looking back at him every few minutes, seemingly shocked that he was still going.

 

When they finally got to a wide clearing, the scent of death was so strong that Stiles could smell it. Scott and Isaac were already circling the horrid looking creature while Allison took shots at it from a few yards away.

 

The wendigo shrieked and swiped at Scott as he moved in closer to it. It was covered in bloody gashes and riddled with arrows but its skin must have been thicker than it appeared because it was still fighting hard.

 

Derek and Peter ran to help the other two wolves circle the wendigo. Stiles took stock of Isaac and Scott and both looked pretty badly hurt. Isaac was limping and his hair was matted with blood. Scott seemed to be unable to use his left arm at all.

 

As soon as the wolves had the wendigo surrounded it shrieked and seemingly disappeared. The wolves all looked at each other in confusion and didn’t notice the almost too quick to see movement heading in Allison’s direction.

 

Stiles was in front of her in a flash and he stopped the wendigo only inches away from where he stood. It’s shrill voice grated against his nerves and he threw it against a tree before smashing it into the ground repeatedly.

 

The wendigo was bleeding profusely but it still cried out weakly. Stiles focused his energy onto its head and put enough pressure on it to crush it like a piece of fruit. He smiled a little at that analogy as he watched the dark, clotted blood seep into the earth.

 

He didn’t notice the heavy silence until Allison tapped him on the shoulder.

 

“Um…thanks Stiles. You totally saved my life,” she said, smiling at him. Her eyes were still wide in surprise, but he would take it.

 

He smiled back at her and finally turned his attention to the werewolves who by now were all staring at him. Peter was smiling so he turned his attention there.

 

“Look at that, I saved the day for once,” he said.

 

Peter laughed and walked up to him, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead before moving on to check on Allison.

 

“Well? Don’t you guys need to burn the body?” Stiles asked slowly.

 

That seemed to shake Scott out of his shock.

 

“Yeah, Derek, come help me with that. Stiles…that was kind of awesome. Can you use that whole…mind control thing or whatever to move the body once we build the fire pit?” he said.

 

“It’s called telekinesis, and yes I can. When you dig the pit, just make sure…” Stiles trailed off as he felt a shock go through his system.

 

He looked around but no one else seemed to feel anything off. They all just looked at him like he was about snap. His eyes were probably black, he realized belatedly.

 

“Um, Stiles? Are you ok?” Isaac asked tentatively.

 

Stiles shook his head.

 

“Where are Erica, Boyd, and Lydia?” he asked.

 

Everyone looked around, finally realizing that they were missing people.

 

“They’re probably fine. Maybe they just went further out than everyone. Derek, why don’t you go find them while we clean up here?” Scott suggested.

 

“No, Scott they’re dead. Erica and Boyd are dead. I can feel a connection to all of your souls; it’s how I experience the pack bond. I can’t sense their souls at all which means they’ve already departed. Lydia’s by herself out there,” he said.

 

Allison gasped and Scott and Isaac both wolfed out just as they heard a scream echoing across the clearing.

 

“That’s Lydia!” Derek said, running after the sound, Scott and Isaac hot on his heels.

 

Stiles turned to Peter and Allison.

 

“Peter, stay here with Allison. Work on getting rid of this body. I have to go with them. I have a really bad feeling about this,” he said.

 

He was glad when Peter nodded and Allison didn’t argue about being left behind. He grabbed Peter’s hand and squeezed it quickly before focusing on where he had last sensed Boyd and Erica and transporting himself there.

 

============================

 

He found himself outside of an old, run-down shed at the very edge of the Hale property. He hesitated because he knew what he was going to find inside. The door was hanging slightly ajar and he could smell the blood already.

 

As soon as he stepped inside he felt a flash of anger fill his chest. Boyd and Erica were strung up, hanging from the ceiling like marionettes. They had thin, bleeding cuts covering most of their bodies. Their cheeks were cut to give the appearance of a grim smile and their hearts were ripped out of their chests and tied around their necks with string like a necklace.

 

Stiles looked for something, anything that could tell him what did this. He froze when he suddenly noticed a familiar scent lingering behind the thick smell of blood: sulfur. A demon did this. No, Baez did this because this wasn’t random, this was a statement.

 

Stiles screamed and lashed out in his fury. The windows shattered and glass spilled across the floor. He ran outside so that he wouldn’t somehow further desecrate Erica and Boyd’s bodies and screamed and tore trees to the ground around him.

 

He touched his cheek and realized that he was crying. That shocked him enough to stop his tantrum. He’s never cried, not even when Mary died. He didn’t realize he even could cry involuntarily.

 

While he felt the loss of his pack mates, he was used to people dying. Hell, he himself was technically dead. This wasn’t sadness; this was pure, unadulterated rage. How dare that low-life scum steal from him again!

 

He wasn’t going to exorcise Baez; he was going to fucking obliterate him.

 

“Stiles, what happened?” Scott called as he got close to the shed.

 

“Where’s Lydia?” Stiles asked, his voice raspy from screaming.

 

“Isaac’s taking her back to the clearing. She’s really shaken up but she says Boyd and Erica just told her to run and she did,” Scott said. “Stiles, man, what happened?”

 

Stiles pointed to the shed and Scott and Derek exchanged a look before running inside. Scott immediately walked back out and puked. Derek came out behind him, his face pale.

 

“What, what happened?” Scott asked, still coughing.

 

Derek looked like he was about to have a mental breakdown and Scott already had tears streaking down his face. Stiles sat down in the dirt.

 

“Do you smell the sulfur?” Stiles asked.

 

Derek sniffed the air and scrunched his nose before nodding. Scott was still trying to stabilize his stomach.

 

“A demon did this. And I think I know who,” Stiles bit out.

 

Derek looked like he was going to ask but Scott finally stood up and shook his head.

 

“Let’s get them down and give them a proper burial. Stiles, can you teleport their bodies too?” Scott asked.

 

Stiles nodded.

 

“Ok, so take their bodies back to the Hale house then go tell the others what happened. We’ll all meet up at the Hale house and we can talk about what we’re going to do only after Erica and Boyd are buried,” Scott continued firmly.

 

Stiles didn’t even bother responding, just rushed into the shed. He walked up to Erica first, pulling out the pocket knife he always carried and cutting her down. He noticed, absently that the heart around her neck didn’t sing right with her body. It must’ve been Boyd’s.

 

He cut Boyd down as well and brought them both with him to the Hale house. He cut the string around their necks and pulled it out of each heart. He went to switch them back to the right bodies but hesitated and decided to leave them swapped. At least this way they would always have some part of each other.

 

He pressed each heart back into their chests and closed them as best he could. The rest of the pack didn’t need to see them in any state worse than necessary. When he was finished, he rested a hand over each of their silent hearts, wondering what heaven must be like and regretting that he would never see them again for all of eternity.

 

======================================== 

The pack was somber when they finally finished marking the grave sites. Most of them had tears in their eyes but they were all clearly trying to keep themselves together. No one said anything. They all just stood in silence as they said their goodbyes to Erica and Boyd.

 

“You know,” Stiles said quietly but it sounded piercing in the heavy silence, “the fact that I can’t feel their souls anymore means that they’ve gone to heaven. I’ve never been there, but from what I hear, it’s a pretty awesome place to be. It seems like a final goodbye now, but you’ll see them again. A lifetime goes by faster than you would think.”

 

Some of the pack looked at him with hope in their eyes, others looked down at the graves like they still couldn’t process that this had even happened.

 

“Heaven is real?” Isaac asked in awe.

 

Stiles wanted to laugh at his shock considering he was a werewolf talking to a demon, but he wasn’t about to traumatize anyone with his inappropriate timing.

 

“Well hell is obviously real, why do you think heaven wouldn’t be?” Stiles said.

 

No one responded, but Allison and Lydia both thanked him quietly before getting in Allison’s car and leaving. Derek patted his back on his way to his own car, Isaac in tow. Scott had gotten a ride from Derek but he followed Peter and Stiles to his jeep instead.

 

Peter took the back seat without prompting and Scott slid into the front seat silently. They drove for a few quiet minutes.

 

“I’m not trying to insult you; you’re my best friend. But I’m just wondering, how did you end up in hell?” Scott asked suddenly.

 

Stiles glanced over at him then focused back on the road.

 

“Honestly? I made a stupid decision when I was young and gullible. My little sister was sick and nobody could figure out how to make her better. She just kept getting sicker and sicker. I had heard stories about people who summoned demons to grant wishes from my mother so when it got really bad, I went out to the crossroads and summoned a demon. I sold my soul for my sister’s life, never realizing that I, in turn, would never see any of my family in the afterlife. I condemned myself to hell for fleeting, human life. Now? I can’t even remember her face. Hell, I can’t even remember my own face. Erica and Boyd are better off where they are,” Stiles said.

 

Scott was silent as he digested this information.

 

“So does that mean that when I die, I’ll never see you again either?” Scott finally asked.

 

Stiles snorted.

 

“Trust me; you don’t want to see me after you die. Dragging yourself out of hell, when you’re not a crossroads demon, is a lot harder than hunters make it seem. And there’s a reason that everybody wants out of hell. Heaven is a much nicer place to spend eternity. Just remember to say hi to Mary for me when you get there,” Stiles said, laughing a little at the end.

 

“That sucks. I mean, it hurts losing Erica and Boyd but I feel better actually knowing that they’re not gone forever. I don’t even want to think about losing you; you’re my brother,” Scott said quietly.

 

“So don’t think about it. You still have the rest of your life to get your fill of the Stiles, you know,” Stiles replied.

 

Scott smiled ruefully.

 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll figure it out when the time comes,” Scott said, “Right now we need to make whoever did this to Erica and Boyd pay.”

 

“We’ll get started on that in the morning. You’re exhausted and everybody is stressed to the max right now. Sleep in and whenever you wake up call me, and we can have a pack meeting. I’ll explain everything that I know and from there it’ll just be a lot of preparation. It’s not easy to kill a something that’s already dead, but there are ways. I’m going to rip this fucker into non-existence if it’s the last thing I do,” Stiles growled out.

 

Scott nodded his head vigorously and the rest of the car ride was silent.

 

When Stiles pulled up to Scott’s house he pulled Stiles in for a long hug before getting out of the car and practically stumbling up to his front door. Stiles watched him go in before heading to Peter’s apartment.

 

“Did this happen because someone is out to get you?” Peter asked after climbing into the front seat.

 

Stiles looked over at him quickly then back at the road.

 

“I didn’t say that,” he said evasively. He really did not feel like getting into it right now.

 

“But that is what happened, right? Why else would you know immediately who did it?” Peter replied.

 

Stiles sighed in frustration.

 

“Yes Peter, ok? But can we just drop it? Because I don’t want to even think about this tonight. Like I said, I’ll explain what I know tomorrow,” Stiles said, annoyed.

 

“Fine, fine. I feel like I could sleep for a whole day anyway,” Peter said, turning his attention out the window.

 

The silence felt more comfortable with Peter. It wasn’t so full of grief and fury and it helped Stiles to settle his own anger to a more manageable level.

 

“Are you staying over?” Peter asked once they pulled up to his apartment complex.

 

Stiles studied the man carefully. He didn’t seem to feel any more grief than Stiles himself did, and truth be told, Stiles found the rhythm of his breath and heart in sleep comforting.

 

“Yeah, I’ve just gotta call my dad and tell him that I’m staying at Scott’s,” he said, turning the engine off.

 

Peter smiled and Stiles was caught up for a moment in how much he had actually built for himself here, with Peter, with the pack, with John. As far back as he could remember he’d never had so much to lose. He would be damned if he was going to let one spiteful demon take this from him.

 

Stiles smiled back and pulled Peter into the building. They didn’t fool around before they went to bed, but they kissed long and soft and full of meaning that Stiles wasn’t sure he understood fully. Lying still in the darkness, watching Peter sleep, Stiles couldn’t help but think that this, at least, he could have forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erica and Boyd are both gruesomely murdered. I didn't want to do it, but it happened anyway. I'm so sorry! Now I'm reliving their canon deaths and it's so painful. I have PTWSD: post-teen wolf stress disorder. 
> 
> Also I wanted to make a note because I refer to Stiles's compulsions as mania a lot. The way I see it, demons are impulsive and destructive creatures. To me, that kind of compulsion to destroy things sounds a lot like psychotic mania, characterized by intensely high energy, poor impulse control, and for some, very destructive thoughts and behaviors. I always say that psychotic mania feels like being possessed by a demon, so it just really clicked for me that this must be what Stiles is dealing with. Not all mania is experienced this way and psychotic mania is not the same from person to person. I wanted to give my explanation for using this term because I don't want to overlook anyone who experiences manic episodes differently.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrestled with this chapter. I'm not happy with the result, but I just couldn't even do it anymore. I hope you all enjoy it anyway!

Stiles grew restless long before the sun rose. He slipped out of bed and found himself just outside of town at the crossroads where he first saw Mary. Someone had been here recently if the upturned dirt was anything to go by.

 

Stiles made a mental note to track whoever had chickened out of summoning him. It had been months since his last deal and, while it wasn’t his top priority at the moment, he wasn’t stupid enough to push his luck by forgoing his work.

 

Ignoring the fresh soil for the moment, Stiles walked a few miles into the woods until he came upon the wide, uneven base of a toppled tree. The wood was long dead and rotting but it pulsed with magic when he laid his hand over the surface.

 

He muttered a few words and his hand slipped right through the wood. He could feel the smooth leather of his journal brush against the palm of his hand and he gripped it tight. When he pulled it out, the magic quickly settled back and the trunk became solid once more.

 

It had been a long time since he’d used his journal. It was 80 years ago at least the last time he’d added anything. Stiles had numerous spell-books, but he kept the most strange and significant spells chronicled in his journal. He only turned to his journal when his back was against the wall because the magic it held was dark and dangerous even for a demon to use. 

 

But, desperate times and so on.

 

 ===================

Back at Peter’s apartment he added wards to the windows and doors to protect himself from prying eyes before settling down on the couch and opening the old book. He flipped through pages stiffened with age until he found what he was looking for.

 

Stiles traced his fingers along the drawn edge of a blade engraved with ancient runes. He scanned the required ingredients for the spell and realized with a little bit of disappointment that he could not work with all of these materials. He would need help.

 

He shut the journal and slipped it behind the books on Peter’s bookshelf, muttering a few spells to make sure that it stayed there. He took down the wards and sent a quick text to Lydia.

 

_Hey Lyds. I need your help but you can’t tell anyone specific details. We’ll talk after the meeting._

He didn’t expect an answer, figuring that Lydia was most likely asleep, so he was surprised when his phone buzzed a few minutes later.

 

_Ok_

Stiles smiled. One thing he loved about Lydia was her ability to just go along with whatever situation presented itself to her. She was highly adaptable and highly efficient. She would make a wonderful demon in Stiles’s opinion.

 

Stiles spent the rest of the night on the couch with his laptop, researching. If there was one thing Stiles knew it was that Erica and Boyd were just the start. If he couldn’t take care of Baez quickly, things would escalate beyond his control and everything he worked so hard to keep would be lost.

 =============================

Peter didn’t say anything to Stiles when he found him sitting in the dark living room on his laptop. He knew him well enough to know that any distractions would not at all be appreciated.

 

Peter simply walked past the living room to make himself and Stiles some coffee. While it brewed, he took a quick shower and got dressed. By the time he came back out the curtains were opened and light filtered into the living room.

 

Stiles sat at his computer with a fresh cup of coffee and when Peter walked by this time, Stiles waved at him without looking up.

 

“So, research huh?” Peter said, pouring his own coffee and grabbing a granola bar.

 

“Hmm,” Stiles hummed.

 

He didn’t say anything else and Peter knew he probably shouldn’t push, but he’d never been one to back down.

 

“What about?” he asked.

 

Stiles gave him a look and shut his laptop.

 

“Peter, this enrages me too much for me to be able to explain more than once so you’re going to have wait for the pack meeting unless you want me to rip your arms off in an accidental burst of fury,” Stiles said dismissively as he walked into the bedroom.

 

Peter frowned. He’d never seen Stiles angry before. Sure, he’s acted angry, and he’d been annoyed, but never like this. This spoke of something much deeper than just Erica and Boyd’s deaths. If whoever was targeting them to was getting such a visceral reaction from Stiles…well, it didn’t bode well for their little pack to say the least.

 

“Come one Peter, let’s just get over there. I highly doubt Derek’s asleep, if he slept at all last night,” Stiles said, walking out of the bedroom in a fresh outfit.

 

Peter swallowed the last of his breakfast and pulled on a jacket. Stiles stopped him before he could open the front door. Peter looked at him curiously as he pulled out a small pocket knife and sliced into his own hand, then into Peter’s.

 

“Ouch,” Peter said more out of annoyance than actual pain.

 

Stiles ignored him and wet his fingers in both of their blood before drawing a strange symbol on the door. He mumbled something in a language that Peter had never heard before then gestured for Peter to open the door.

 

Peter hesitated, squinting at the bloody symbol. Stiles huffed in annoyance.

 

“It’s just a spell to keep anyone other than us from getting into the apartment. It’s not going to zap you or whatever the fuck you’re thinking right now,” he said, smiling a little at the end.

 

Peter rolled his eyes and opened the door. When nothing happened, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

 

“As if a little magic could take me out anyway,” he said as they locked up and headed to the elevator.

 

“Oh, you would be surprised, Zombiewolf. Magic got you out of the ground, and it can damn well put you back into it,” Stiles replied, grinning mischievously.

 

“You know, since we’re on the subject, demons don’t usually do magic as far as I know,” Peter said slowly.

 

The grin slid off of Stiles’s face and he appeared thoughtful.

 

“No, I suppose they usually don’t. Magic isn’t something that can be learned by an impure soul. Dark magic comes from twisted witches and souls which changed with the power. My mother, my real mother, she was a witch. She taught me how to use magic while I was still alive, still pure,” Stiles looked at Peter thoughtfully, “I suppose you must’ve learned it when you were pure too.”

 

Peter didn’t know what to say to that. He’d learned from his grandmother how to use simple magic, how to interpret and perform ancient family rituals, but he knew very little beyond that.

 

“Does whoever is after you know magic?” Peter asked.

 

Stiles’s face contorted into disgust for a moment and his whole body tensed before he visibly relaxed.

 

“No,” he said simply, sliding into Peter’s car.

 

“Hmm,” Peter hummed, getting in himself.

 

He knew better than to ask any more questions before they got to Derek’s, but he filed the information he’d just learned to the back of his mind.

 

 ============================

Stiles felt anger brewing just beneath the surface of his consciousness. Every reminder, every mention of Baez was like a punch in the face right now. He’d been angry before, but he couldn’t recall ever feeling this kind of rage.

 

If he didn’t get a handle on it soon it was bound to slip out at some inopportune moment. Powerful emotion was a weakness, a burden. Emotion acted like blinders and Stiles had seen great men and women brought to their knees and to their graves because of it.

 

Stiles refused to be one of those people.

 

He closed his eyes and focused on nothing, letting go of everything for the moment. He only came back to himself when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

 

“Stiles?” Peter asked.

 

“I was just meditating,” he said, noting that the anger was much less pressing now.

 

Peter snorted and got out of the car. Stiles followed close behind him as they headed towards the elevators and Derek’s apartment.

 

“Hey dude, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Stiles said laughing.  

 

“Oh no, I’m sure it’s wonderful. Very Zen. I just never thought I’d see you doing it,” Peter said.

 

“Well, I never sleep. I’m conscious literally 24/7, I have to do _something_ to relax once in a while,” Stiles said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

 

Peter stopped in front of Derek’s apartment and pulled Stiles in for a kiss before knocking.

 

“I still think it’s ironic,” Peter whispered against Stiles’s lips.

 

Stiles was about to act offended when the door suddenly opened. They both looked over at Derek but neither moved away. Derek just stared at them for a second before sighing heavily.

 

“This is my life,” he muttered to himself, “Come on, everyone’s here already.”

 

“What? We’re like, two hours early!” Stiles said, sliding out of Peter’s arms and into the apartment.

 

“Yeah, well, everyone was pretty anxious for this meeting,” Derek said sadly.

 

Stiles paused and turned to really look at Derek. It didn’t look like the man had slept at all. Dark circles lined his eyes and his eyes were bloodshot. He scanned the rest of the room and Isaac, Allison, and Scott didn’t look much better. Lydia looked perfect but that didn’t really mean much with her.

 

He waved at Peter to follow him and sat down on the floor facing the rest of the pack. Derek leaned against the back of the couch where Allison, Lydia and Scott sat. Isaac sat in a love seat off to the side, looking lost.

 

“Stiles, tell us what’s going on,” Scott said when Peter sat on the floor next to Stiles.

 

Stiles stared at his friend for a long moment before standing up and pacing, the anger rising up again full force.

 

“This is my fault,” he said angrily.

 

He didn’t look at the pack. He had no desire to see their reactions right now.

 

“Erica and Boyd were killed by a demon named Baez,” he spat the name out, “He knows me. He was one of the only demons that I got close to in hell. We’ve had this…relationship of sorts…for centuries. We would hunt together, cause chaos, we were lovers on and off. We were enemies on and off as well. He’s older than me, but I have territory, something he’s always envied me for. About a century ago he tricked me and stole hundreds of contracts from me. I knocked the shit out of him and haven’t seen him since. Well, not until a week ago when I ran into him in Beijing. I have no doubt in my mind that he’s the one who attacked Erica and Boyd. He must have found out that I had a life here and he wants to destroy it to mess with me.”

 

The windows shattered and Stiles was shocked out of his anger. He looked at the rest of the pack with wide eyes and raised his hands in apology.

 

“Sorry, that was my bad. I can fix it,” he said.

 

Derek looked torn between gaping at his broken windows and Stiles. Isaac had his hands over his head like he was shielding himself from an attack.

 

Allison, Lydia and Scott were looking at him steadily, so he turned to them.

 

“Stiles, this was not your fault,” Scott said finally.

 

Stiles laughed.

 

“Are you serious? That’s what you got out of that? And yes, dude, it is 100% my fault,” he said.

 

“Scott’s right,” Allison said suddenly, “You didn’t know this was going to happen and you can’t control the actions of an enemy. What’s important now is that we take care of him.”

 

“What contracts?” Isaac piped up.

 

Everyone looked at him like he was crazy.

 

“What kind of contracts did he steal? And what were you doing in Beijing in the first place?” he asked, unperturbed.

 

Allison and Scott looked thoughtful when they turned their attention to Stiles.

 

He’d been hoping they would just breeze past that but, then again, he had never been terribly lucky.

 

“I’m a crossroads demon, remember? My territory covers Beacon Hills and a few other local counties. When someone in my territory wants to make a deal, I make a contract. Without the contract, I can’t retrieve their souls. Less souls means less power and more time spent in the Pit,” he said.

 

“As for Beijing,” he continued, “I have tomes, bestiaries, and spell-books hidden all over the world. I wanted to get more information on how to kill the wendigo so I went to Beijing to check one of my bestiaries.”

 

It wasn’t exactly a lie, he did have a bestiary hidden on the outskirts of Beijing; he just wasn’t actually there for that. He looked down at Peter who had one eyebrow raised and a disbelieving look on his face. He rolled his eyes at him and focused on the rest of the pack.

 

“Woah, so are you like, a big shot demon?” Isaac asked.

 

Stiles shook his head and Scott stood up. He began to pace around the living room.

 

“So what are we going to do?” he asked.

 

“We’re going to kill him,” Stiles said evenly.

 

Scott stopped pacing and had his mouth open to speak but was cut off by Lydia.

 

“Don’t you mean exorcise him? You can’t kill something that’s already dead,” she said.

 

Stiles smiled brightly at her.

 

“That’s very true Lydia, but I happen to know of a spell to destroy a soul,” he said.

 

Lydia’s eyes widened.

 

“If that’s true, then why don’t the hunters know that this spell exists?” Allison asked.

 

“It’s not a commonly known spell. I learned it from a fallen angel who owed me a favor and she learned it from a powerful necromancer whom I helped her kill. I think we’re the only two who know it even exists,” Stiles said.

 

“What do we need to do?” Derek asked.

 

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll be working on it with Lydia. In the meantime we all need to protect ourselves as best we can. You should all carry holy water with you. You’ll need talismans to protect you from possession and I can show you how to demon-proof your homes,” Stiles answered.

 

Lydia stood up and pulled a handful of necklaces out of her bag.

 

“I’ve already taken care of the talismans. I have enough for Stiles and Allison’s dads and Scott’s mom. I already know the symbols to ward a house against demons so I can help Stiles with that,” she said.

 

“This is why you’re the real brains of the operation,” Stiles said smiling.

 

They spent the rest of the meeting going over sigils to protect against demons and carefully avoiding any mention of Erica and Boyd.

 

 ===============================

When everyone started to filter out, Stiles pulled Lydia aside, muttering a quick silence spell so that no one could overhear them.

 

“You need my help with this spell because I’m human, right?” Lydia said when he finished.

 

“How do you know that?” Stiles asked, not really surprised.

 

“My aunt gave me some interesting books on demons after meeting you. Magic was only mentioned briefly but it did say that demon magic was more complicated than human magic,” Lydia said.

 

“That’s a little bit misleading. It’s not that spell work is different for a demon; it’s just that spells are generally oriented for mortals. This spell, for example, requires that the castor touch and work with an angel feather. If I touch that feather, it would just burn the angel essence out of it and render it useless. This is where I need your help. This is a dark spell. I mean, really really dark. I can take care of everything, get all the ingredients, but I need you to get the feather and to cast the actual spell,” Stiles said.

 

“So when you say you want me to keep the details secret…you mean we’re going to be doing something terrible for this, am I right?” Lydia asked

 

“Yes,” Stiles said without breaking eye contact.

 

Lydia looked at the floor for a moment before meeting Stiles’s eyes.

 

“Just tell me what to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to make a quick note that when Stiles says this spell involves doing something terrible, he means that it is truly terrible. I'll add a warning to the next chapter for it but I just wanted to give a heads up to check for any warnings if you think it'll be a problem.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GORE WARNING! Read the end notes for more info if you're concerned. Otherwise, enjoy.

“The Nemeton? That’s one of the ingredients?” Peter asked incredulously.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes.

 

“No, of course not. We need ‘the bark of an enchanted tree,’” he quoted, “the Nemeton just happens to be the closest enchanted tree to us.”

 

“It’s more of a trunk really…” Peter said.

 

“You know what Peter? That’s exactly the kind of attitude that ruined your first attempt at pack domination,” Stiles replied.

 

“What, realism?” Peter asked.

 

“Pessimism!” Stiles said loudly as he sliced a long strip of bark from the remnants of the tree, “And a lack of creativity. This is a tree because I say it’s a tree, and the spell will recognize my recognition and trigger the magic still embedded in the wood. Easy peasy, right?”

 

Peter huffed in annoyance and shook his head.

 

“You’re the expert I suppose,” Peter said, “Now what else is on the list?”

 

“Next up is ‘ashes of the dead,’” Stiles said.

 

“Then I guess we should head to the crematorium,” Peter said, walking back towards the jeep.

 

“Actually, I’ve got that one covered. John never had a good relationship with his mother, so when she died and he was given the ashes he wanted to just throw them away. Mary felt that he might one day regret that decision so instead of getting rid of them, she stored them in a safe place in the attic. I checked the other night and the urn is still where she left it,” Stiles said.

 

“Ah, so you’re ok using your grandmother’s ashes for this spell?” Peter asked

 

Stiles shrugged.

 

“She’s not really my grandmother. Besides, from what I hear about her she’s probably roasting in hell right now,” Stiles said flippantly.

 

“Hmm. So what do we still need then?” Peter asked.

 

“Well we need an angel feather but Lydia’s going to have to help me get that one. If I try to touch it the essence will burn right out of it. Altered humans—and that includes werewolves—will warp the magic if they touch it. Only a human can touch and work with an angel feather while preserving its pure power,” Stiles said, “Then there’s aconite and vervain which we have tons of between all the werewolf and vampire problems we’ve had.”

 

 “Alright, but what can we get tonight?” Peter asked a bit exasperated.

 

Stiles squirmed and avoided meeting Peter’s eyes.

 

“Yeah, that’s the thing. The only other thing we need to get is kind of…dark. I mean, I think I found a way to avoid murder but still, the idea is really morbid, even for me,” he said hesitantly.

 

Peter raised his eyebrows.

 

“You? Avoid murder?” Peter asked skeptically.

 

Stiles groaned and flailed his arms.

 

“It calls for infant blood, ok! I don’t mind killing people, but killing children is different! That’s just not my thing,” Stiles said.

 

Peter winced.

 

“Ok, what’s your idea then?” Peter asked.

 

Stiles smiled like the evil genius he was and grabbed Peter’s bicep.

 ====================================

“I have a good feeling about this one,” Stiles whispered as they teleported to the fifth hospital of the night.

 

“You’ve said that about every single hospital we’ve been to, Stiles,” Peter whispered back.

 

“That’s Dr. Stiles to you,” Stiles said quietly, laughing when Peter smacked his arm lightly.

 

They quickly quieted as a nurse walked past them down the corridor. They had stolen scrubs and a random patient’s chart at the first hospital and so far no one had called them out for wandering the maternity ward.

 

“Do you smell anything weird? Like, death or something?” Stiles asked after they passed a few rooms occupied by women in labor.

 

“No, but the smell of blood and alcohol is so overpowering I don’t know if I’d notice it even if it was there,” Peter said honestly.

 

Stiles was about to suggest they try a hospital in a bigger city when he heard the sound of someone sobbing in the next room. He looked at Peter excitedly and ran up to the door, peeking through the window. The room was empty except for a woman curled over a bundle in the hospital bed and a man, presumably her husband, sitting next to her and rubbing her back.

 

Stiles knocked lightly on the door before walking in, Peter trailing behind him.

 

“Sir, Ma’am, I’m sorry to barge in like this, but they sent us to retrieve the body,” Stiles said quietly, keeping his face as sympathetic as he could.

 

It wasn’t very hard actually, Stiles has always had a soft spot for loving parents. That’s probably why he liked John so much. That man was born to be a father.

 

The woman wailed and sobbed harder, clutching at the bundle desperately until her husband managed to ease it out of her grasp. He wordlessly carried it to Stiles, pausing briefly before relinquishing the body to him and nodding.

 

Stiles nodded back.

 

“We’re so sorry for your loss,” Peter said before they left them to their mourning.

 

As soon as they were clear of the room and Stiles was sure that no one was watching he grabbed Peter and brought them back to the preserve.

 

“Ok, I have rope and a bowl to catch the blood so let’s do this quickly and burn the remains so that no one finds out that we did this, yeah?” Stiles said, passing the child’s body over to Peter and heading to his jeep to get the supplies.

 

Peter was quiet while Stiles fumbled around the mess in his back seat.

 

“I was supposed to be a father, you know,” Peter said so quietly that Stiles almost missed it.

 

Stiles froze and twisted around to face Peter. He had opened the blanket and was looking down at the baby in his arms.

 

“My fiancée was pregnant when she burned. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like, you know?” he said.

 

Stiles was so out of his depth here it wasn’t even funny. He had never had children, never wanted them. Hell, he almost never possessed anyone over the age of 18, he just did not connect with parenthood at all.

 

“I don’t know anything about being a parent, but I know a lot about loss. I guess in a weird way, Mary and John are like children to me. I always felt this need to take care of them, to keep them safe and happy. I think you can find people that you can do that for, but as sure as the sun shines you’re going to lose every one of them at some point,” Stiles said after a brief pause.

 

Peter frowned at him then looked back down at the child. His lips slowly turned up at the corners.

 

“I suppose that’s a somewhat bleak, but much more fascinating way to look at it,” he said.

 

“We can always get a puppy,” Stiles said, coming out of the jeep with the rope and bowl, “Actually, I can just kill you and then you can play with my hellhounds. They’ll be friendly if I tell them to,”

 

Peter raised an eyebrow.

 

“Hellhounds?” he said.

 

“Well, yeah. Who do you think collects my souls?” Stiles said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

 

Peter shook his head and took the rope from Stiles, tying one end carefully around a small ankle and the other to a low hanging branch. Stiles placed the bowl so that it would catch the blood and pulled a hunting knife out of his pocket.

 

He looked at Peter and raised an eyebrow, waiting to see if he wanted to turn away. Peter shook his head slightly and put his hands on his hips as he waited for Stiles to make the cut. Stiles shrugged. This wasn’t the worst thing he’s ever done. He would probably do worse in the future. Still, it didn’t quite sit right with him.

 

Stiles sliced across the child’s throat without thinking about what he was doing and watched as blood gushed down her face and dripped steadily into the bowl below. He didn’t feel pleasure watching her bleed out but he felt he owed the poor child that much.

 

When the bleeding slowed and the bowl filled, Peter cut the infant down and laid her in the grave he had dug while she bled. He dowsed the body in kerosene—courtesy of Stiles—and dropped a match, flinching back a bit as the flames burst up.

 

“Don’t worry, she doesn’t feel it,” Stiles said as he transferred the blood into a mason jar, throwing the bowl into the fire.

 

“Burning bodies bring back memories. You did burn me alive a second time, remember?” Peter said, ruffling Stiles’s hair.

 

Stiles huffed and fixed his hair with his fingers.

 

“Dude, whatever. I know what it feels like and it’s not the most painful thing in the world,” Stiles said.

 

Peter looked at him in surprise then something seemed to click in his head and he just smirked.

 

“What’s the most painful thing in the world?” he asked.

 

Stiles thought about it, cringed, and shook his head.

 

“You do not even want to know,” he said.

 

They watched the fire die down until only ash remained in the grave. Peter shoveled dirt back into the hole and Stiles looked around for an appropriate marker. He managed to find a large rock in the shape of a heart and something about it just felt right.

 

He brought it back just as Peter was patting down the soil and laid it on the small mound. Peter smiled when he saw what Stiles had picked.

 

“Appropriate,” he said.

 

“I thought so,” Stiles said, brushing the dirt off his hands and heading back to his car, “Come on, I need a bath and I want to try out those new bath bombs I got at the mall last week.”

 ==================================

The next day at school was one of the worst days of Stiles’s admittedly long life. He knew the second he stepped out of his jeep that something was just going to go horribly wrong for him. Scott’s hyper-vigilance wasn’t really helping with that feeling either.

 

Everyone was tense in the morning. They barely spoke before the first bell rang and they had to head into their respective classrooms and endure the curious and sympathetic stares of their peers.

 

No one mentioned Erica and Boyd, but it was blatantly obvious that rumor of their MIA status had spread through the entire school. Scott didn’t react to his classmates, but Isaac seemed to shrink under their glances and it made Stiles want to just bundle him up and whisk him away from all the drama.

 

Stiles just grew progressively more irritated with each passing period. He wanted to lash out at the students. He wanted to leave. He had almost reached his tipping point and was just about to leave—evil demon after the pack be damned—when a substitute walked into their chemistry class.

 

Stiles froze halfway out of his seat and gaped at the man. He was small and unimposing, his face unfamiliar to Stiles but for the shifting shadow beneath his features.

 

“Mr. Stilinski, I was told that you might cause trouble. Can you please take your seat? Class has started,” he said, smiling like the innocent school teacher he wore.

 

Stiles felt his right eye twitch slightly as a surge of fresh anger rushed though him. He wanted to rip every living thing in the room apart and burn the remains to ashes. Instead he smiled thinly and sat himself back down.

 

The period went by in a haze from there. Stiles was aware of Lydia glancing over at him every few minutes trying to piece together what was wrong. Stiles studiously ignored her and concentrated on gouging holes into his notebook with his pen.

 

Baez didn’t so much as glance in Stiles’s direction after his first comment. He did, however, call on Lydia excessively and smiled like a proud father whenever she solved a complicated problem.

 

“Excellent, my dear,” he said brightly after Lydia finished drawing the molecular structure of potassium iodine on the blackboard.

 

She smiled hesitantly, like she sensed that something was off but couldn’t place what before walking back to her seat.

 

“Such bright minds shouldn’t be wasted. You should all take a page out of Lydia’s book and foster your young minds before time, or some other dreadful force, removes the opportunity,” Baez said.

 

A few students shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to take that comment.

 

Out of the corner of his eye Stiles saw Lydia straighten in her seat and glance quickly between Stiles and the teacher. Ah, it took her long enough.

 

Stiles felt ink splash over his hand and he realized distantly that his pen had exploded all over his “notes.”

 

“Mr. Stilinski, please clean yourself off before you get ink all over the room,” Baez said, sighing.

 

Stiles forced a smile and nodded, walking out of the classroom without looking back. Lydia would be safe for now. Baez liked to take his time and play with his victims. It was a little concerning that he had already worked out his connection to John, but in all likelihood he would leave him for last to draw out the fun.

 

Stiles passed the bathroom down the hall and walked all the way to the locker room. It was empty at this time and Stiles washed his hands and wrists slowly before tearing the sink off the wall and throwing it against the bathroom stalls.

 

He punched out all five mirrors and cleaned his bloody hand off in the water flooding out of the broken pipe of the sink he destroyed. He took a deep, calming breath and stepped over the growing puddle on the floor, heading back the way he came.

 

He had his hand on the door handle when he felt breath on the back of his neck.

 

“What order do you think I should kill them in, hmm? I really want to torture the quiet one, he seems so fragile. The quiet ones always break the best,”

 

Stiles growled and threw energy out, spinning around, but the man was already gone.

 

“I think you’ve been spending too much time with these dogs, Stiles, you’re starting to act like one,” Baez said, leaning against the wall beside Stiles.

 

Stiles tried to rip him apart but he was gone again before he could connect.

 

“Your aim is terrible when you’re worked up, Stiles. I always tell you: elation is a distraction and anger is a weakness,” Baez said, standing between him and the door, “Who’s going to protect your friends if you can’t even touch me?”

 

Stiles lifted the bench across the room and stepped back as he launched it toward the door. Baez was gone before it impacted and he didn’t show up again. Stiles shouted in frustration and punched the wall.

 

He leaned his forehead against the cool stone and willed himself to be calm. Baez was right, anger was a weakness. If he was going to win this without any casualties he couldn’t afford to fall for Baez’s games.

 

He went back to class just in time for the bell. Lydia rushed out before the class could empty and Baez smirked in her direction like he knew why. Stiles glared at the man who simply raised his eyebrows and continued to erase the chalkboard.

 

He intercepted Scott and Isaac before they could enter the classroom.

 

“You guys are skipping chemistry today,” he said quietly, gesturing for them to follow.

 

“Why? What happened?” Isaac asked.

 

Stiles felt his face twist in disgust at the memory of Baez’s dig at the boy. Isaac stepped back in surprise and Lydia rushed to soothe him.

 

“The substitute is possessed by Stiles’s friend,” she said quickly.

 

Stiles growled at her choice of words and she waved a hand dismissively.

 

“I’m going to go get Allison and we should all leave until we can figure out how we’re going to handle this. There’s only one period left anyway,” she said.

 

Scott nodded and walked with Lydia down the hall. Isaac looked torn between following Scott and waiting with Stiles.

 

“Come on, Isaac, we’ll wait in my car,” he said, turning on his heel and walking toward the parking lot.

 

 

 =============================================

 

Lydia flipped the car mirror down and reapplied her lip gloss.

 

“Can you remind me again why we’re driving all the way to rural Washington instead of just getting demon-zapped there?” Lydia asked, smacking her lips together and flipping the mirror back up.

 

Stiles glanced at her and relaxed deeper into his seat.

 

“Because road trips are nice once in a while and I really need a break from Peter and Derek’s constant nagging,” he said.

 

As soon as the Hales got wind of Baez’s presence in the school and Stiles’s epic fail in the locker room they had been livid. Neither of them would let Stiles do anything without one of them present. He’d expect that kind of behavior from Derek, but Peter was a bit of a surprise.

 

It was kind of sweet that he cared so much but Stiles was a demon. He had always been on his own and it was really irritating and insulting to have someone breathing down his neck all the time, even if they were doing out of…the “L” word.

 

This road trip was actually a joint effort between him, Lydia, and Allison. Stiles got Derek and Peter together to “make plans” about keeping the pack safe at school. They had already instituted a policy where everyone had to stay in pairs at all times, but school was still a challenge.

 

While they were all together, Lydia lined wolfsbane along all the entrances to the apartment. By the time they realized that Stiles was planning to go on a road trip to Washington with Lydia, she had them totally trapped and Stiles left with a promise that Allison would break the lines after they had been on the road for two hours. 

 

Needless to say, they were two very unhappy Hales.

 

“You pretend to be flippant about them, but deep down I know you really care,” Lydia said.

 

“Um, soulless demon here, remember?” Stiles said, smiling.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, I still don’t like Peter and I would be thrilled if his love was painfully one sided, but I’m not stupid. It’s different for you but that love is there, for Peter and for all the rest of us,” she turned in her seat to look him up and down “Now that I think about it, that’s probably why you’re so good at pretending to be human.”

 

“Hmm. It’s an interesting theory. Too bad you have no way to prove it,” Stiles said playfully.

 

Lydia flipped her hair and huffed.

 

“As if I need confirmation to know that I’m right,” she said.

 

Stiles laughed and they spent the rest of the drive arguing over what the most important part of a spell was and singing along to Imagine Dragons on the radio.

 ======================================

“Are we close?” Lydia asked after the tenth mile into their hike.

 

Stiles scanned the mountain they were making their way up.

 

“It’s hard to tell. There’re wards up so I won’t really know it’s there until it’s right in front of us,” he said.

 

Lydia sighed.

 

“But you can zap us back down, right?” she asked hopefully.

 

“Yeah, that won’t be a problem,” Stiles said, still scanning the rock and trees ahead of them, “Oh! There! There’s magic pulsing in that cave!”

 

Lydia whooped in joy and rushed to keep up with Stiles as he veered off the trail and toward the little cave carved into the mountainside. He stopped at the entrance.

 

“This is as far as I can go. Be careful what you touch in there, some of those items are probably cursed. The closer you get to the feather, the louder the buzzing in your head should get,” he said.

 

“What buzzing?” Lydia asked.

 

“You’ll hear it don’t worry,” Stiles assured her.

 

She cautiously stepped into the cave and turned on the flashlight on her phone. She scanned the items piled on top of each other along the walls as she slowly walked deeper into the dark cavern. After a few steps she started to hear buzzing. The further she went, the louder it got until it was almost unbearable to hear.

 

Lydia covered her ears with her hands.

 

“Look around! It’s got to be right there,” she heard Stiles shouting over the noise.

 

She nodded her head and lowered her flashlight, scanning the items on the floor until a flash of white caught her attention. She pushed a pile of books off of a large wooden box and there it was, a feather the size of her forearm, shimmering all the colors in the rainbow in the reflection of the light.

 

As soon as she gripped the feather the buzzing silenced and she rushed out of the cave, hugging it to her chest.

 

“Voila!" She said, holding it up victoriously, “Now let’s go, I’m starving.”

 

Stiles laughed and handed her a drawstring bag, careful not to touch the feather. Lydia dropped it inside and hooked it over her shoulder.

 

In the next moment they were stepping inside a local diner.

 ==============================================

It was almost one in the morning when Stiles waved goodbye to Lydia. When he pulled up to Peter’s apartment five minutes later, Peter was already outside with a cigarette.

 

“Woah, how long were you out here?” Stiles asked, smiling.

 

Peter grimaced and took a long drag before speaking.

 

“Allison called me when you dropped Lydia off. What the fuck were you thinking today?” he asked, staring hard at Stiles.

 

“I was thinking that I needed a little bit of breathing room. God, it’s not like I’m even actually in any danger. I’m already dead, remember?” Stiles huffed.

 

Peter threw his cigarette to the ground and stormed up to Stiles, stepping right into his space.

 

“There are worse things than death and you know that. You’re the one who brought this demon here. We’re just trying to get out of this in one piece,” Peter hissed.

 

Stiles punched him in the gut.

 

“How dare you! I did not make this happen; I did not know this was going to be a problem. And I’ve been by myself for much longer than you’ve been alive! I’ve dealt with Baez by myself before. I can do it again! Stop acting like I’m some helpless fucking human already because I though we already established that I’m not!” Stiles shouted, having enough sense in his anger to cast a silence spell.

 

Peter grabbed Stiles by the hair and slammed him face-first into the hood of his car.

 

“Why can’t you just let someone fucking help you for once!” Peter growled, lifting Stiles’s head and smashing it down again.

 

Stiles felt his nose break and he blinked away the blood that was dripping into his eye. He reached behind him and shot energy straight into Peter’s chest, throwing him across the sidewalk and into the brick building with a sickening crack.

 

“Because I don’t need help! Friends, family, loved ones, they can’t help you, they just make you weak!” Stiles screamed, lifting Peter up and throwing him straight into the windshield.

 

Peter groaned and shifted until he could crawl out of the car. Broken fragments of glass jutted out of his skin and blood ran down his face, neck, and chest.

 

“Those things make you human, Stiles! And I know you’re not human, but I also know that if you didn’t want that, want those things, you wouldn’t fucking be here! So stop trying to push us away and just let us help you deal with this!” Peter shouted.

 

Stiles fell silent. He touched a hand to his nose and looked at the blood on his fingers. He looked back up at Pete who had managed to slide off the hood and stood next to his damaged jeep, cradling a broken arm.

 

“This is why we shouldn’t go so long without ripping people apart,” Stiles said, laughing.

 

Peter glared at him and he put his hands up in surrender.

 

“Peter, I have my hounds, remember? I know you’ve never seen them but trust me, they could drag Baez back to hell in a heartbeat. I really am ok on my own. I promise that I’ll tell you where I’m going and I won’t go on any more road trips, but you and Derek need to trust me a little bit more, ok?” he said.

 

Peter frowned, considering him.

 

“Fine. Let’s just go inside before someone calls the police,” he said after a moment.

 

“Nobody heard anything. We can just report that the car was broken into tomorrow. You didn’t get any blood on the upholstery did you?” Stiles asked.

 

Peter rolled his eyes and grabbed Stiles’s hoodie.

 

“I have no idea why I like you so much,” he mumbled.

 

Stiles laughed.

 

“You and me both, Zombiewolf, you and me both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They bleed out a still-born child. If that is going to trigger you in any way please do not read this chapter.
> 
> Also can I just say that Jeff Davis is making me want to barf with all this Stydia? He took my two favorite characters and forced them into these unfitting roles of the hero and the damsel and distress and it's a disservice to their characters, the show, the fandom, and feminism in general. THERE IS A SUCH THING AS EQUALS IN RELATIONSHIPS JEFF DAVIS


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun with this chapter. I hope you guys like it and again, thank you for all the kudos and comments. They always make my day :)

After a good night’s sleep—and long spree of vigilante torture—it was like the night before never happened.

 

“School doesn’t start for another four hours,” Peter whined sleepily when Stiles had to (violently) ease his way out from under his arm.

 

“Yeah but dad gets back from work in like half an hour. Go back to sleep. Oh, I won’t be coming over tonight,” Stiles said.

 

“Why?” Peter asked, his eyes barely open.

 

“Me and Lyds are gonna cast the spell so we can get this show on the road. Go back to sleep, you’re probably gonna just forget everything I say anyway,” Stiles said, laughing.

 

Peter just grunted and rolled over. Stiles slipped his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and took a picture. He laughed to himself and when he snapped his phone shut he was in his bedroom.

 ==================================

“Is he still here?” Allison asked, pulling her books out of her locker.

 

Scott tilted his head as if he were listening in on something.

 

“Yeah. Harris is still out. Do you think Baez did something to him?” he said sounding way more worried than Harris deserved in Stiles’s opinion.

 

“It’s been a week now? Yeah, he’s probably dead and buried where no one is going to find his body and cause a stir,” Stiles said matter-of-factly.

 

Isaac winced.

 

“Harsh. I wouldn’t want to be on your shit list,” he said.

 

“I’m just being realistic. It’s what I would have done in Baez’s position. And no, you really wouldn’t want to be on my shit list,” Stiles said, smiling and ruffling Isaac’s hair.

 

Isaac gasped and rapidly ran his fingers through his hair.

 

Allison laughed and Scott was wearing his patented goofy grin.

 

“God, I don’t want to sit through that class again. He keeps trying to catch me alone, like, I’m obviously aware you’re a creep, back off,” Lydia whined.

 

Scott laughed nervously and Stiles grimaced.

 

“He caught me in the hallway on Friday and told me that I had beautiful hair and that it must be from my mother because it certainly didn’t come from my father,” Allison said.

 

“He hasn’t said anything to me but every time I pass him in the hallway he gives me this look like I’m missing a joke or something,” Isaac added.

 

“This is a huge problem Stiles, how long do you think it’s going to be before he actually lashes out at one of us?” Scott said.

 

“Look, I know this whole thing sucks, ok? I’m trying, I really am. I just need one more day and we should be ready to end this,” Stiles said, sighing.

 

Everyone was lost in their own thoughts when the bell rang for first period.

 

“Right, one more day,” Scott said as he slid his backpack on and wandered off with Lydia to class.

 

Allison waved and darted into her classroom right across the hall.

 

“I really hope you actually know what you’re doing,” Isaac said, as they walked to history.

 

Stiles snorted and waved his concern off. He didn’t point out that magic was finicky on the best of days and he was using an untested spell. Isaac probably didn’t need to know that.

 

 ======================================

“Stiles…what is this?” Lydia asked, eyeing the mason jar suspiciously.

 

They had cleaned up the burnt out living room in the Hale house as best they could and set up all their supplies on a folding table.

 

“Uh,” Stiles said, looking up from where he was chalking symbols onto the charred floorboards, “Oh, that? That’s the infant’s blood.”

 

Lydia inhaled deeply and placed the jar carefully back onto the table.

 

“I don’t even want to know how you got that. I think I’m just going to not ask any more questions,” she said.

 

“In order for you to be able to work the magic, you have to understand what you’re working with. I told you it was dark,” Stiles said lightly.

 

“Well,” Lydia said, grabbing a large bowl and bringing it to the center of the spiraling symbols Stiles was drawing, “At least no one can say I don’t contribute to this pack.”

 

“Lyds, I don’t think they could ever say that,” Stiles said laughing.

 

He finished off the last of the circle and got up to help Lydia carry all of the ingredients over.

 

“How’d you get the dagger anyway?” Lydia asked, looking at the ancient looking knife.

 

“I actually had that. Weapons that spill the blood of loved ones and relatives are the easiest to enchant so they’re actually really common in these types of spells. I collect them whenever I come across them and store them in different caves and vaults,” Stiles answered.

 

Lydia shook her head.

 

“Whatever you say,” she said, “Ok, I think that’s everything. So we have wolfsbane and vervain,” she sprinkled the crushed herbs into the bowl.

 

“Bark of an enchanted tree,” she said, breaking the piece of wood apart and dropping it into the bowl as well.

 

“What about the demon-possessed blood?” she asked.

 

“I’ve got that covered. Add everything else first,” Stiles said, taking the knife in hand and waiting for Lydia to finish.

 

She nodded and poured the infant’s blood into the mixture along with the ashes. She laid the angel feather on top almost reverently, holding onto it a moment too long. She looked down at the mixture without saying anything for a long moment.

 

“You alright, Lyds?” Stiles asked slowly.

 

Lydia seemed to come back to herself.

 

“Your blood, please,” she said, gesturing for him to get on with it.

 

Stiles laughed lightly and sliced a deep cut up his forearm with the dagger. He hit the vein so the blood poured out quickly and freely. He tried his best to keep the flow over the bowl but a few drops splashed onto the floor before the wound closed up.

 

None of the sigils were damaged so he didn’t bother cleaning it up. He looked over at Lydia who looked a little sick but otherwise fine.

 

“It’s all you girl,” Stiles said, handing her the bloody dagger.

 

Lydia took the dagger and shooed him away, kneeling over the bowl and gently tilting it back and forth to mix all of the ingredients together. She submerged the entire dagger into the mixture and took a focusing breath.

 

She chanted the latin she had insisted on memorizing before they performed the ritual. The markings on the floor glowed faintly with energy and the ground seemed to vibrate beneath Stiles’s feet.

 

He knew that Lydia must be hearing the buzz of energy from the angel feather but she continued chanting, unperturbed. She stopped abruptly and the glowing and vibrating immediately ceased.

 

“Did it work?” Lydia asked, turning around to look at Stiles.

 

Stiles stepped back into the circle and picked up the dagger. He wiped the blood off on his t-shirt and smiled at the crawling black markings now etched on the blade.

 

“There’s one way to find out,” he said, grinning widely.

 ============================================

Stiles and Lydia were halfway to Derek’s loft when both of their phones went off.

 

Lydia looked down at the screen in puzzlement before answering. Stiles just lifted his phone to his ear without looking.

 

“What is it?” he asked, figuring it had to be one of the pack if they were looking for Lydia too.

 

“Oh thank god! Dude, where are you right now?” Scott asked quickly.

 

“I’m driving to Derek’s for the meeting,” Stiles replied, a bit worried by his tone, “Why what happened?”

 

“Just get here. The loft is a wreck and Derek is gone. We can’t get in contact with Peter either. Stiles, is Lydia with you?” he asked.

 

“Yeah I think Allison is talking to her. Stay there, use those sigils I showed you to ward the place,” Stiles said.

 

He hung up before he could even hear Scott’s reply. He made a sharp u-turn and dialed Peter without looking away from the road.

 

“Holy shit, Stiles what are you doing?” Lydia asked, apparently done speaking with Allison.

 

“We’re checking out Peter’s apartment first,” he said.

 

Stiles waited for Peter to pick up his cell but after getting the voicemail twice he threw his phone into the backseat and cursed under his breath.

 

He swung into his usual parking spot and slammed the brakes hard just before he could hit the curb. He grabbed Lydia’s shoulder and they were inside the apartment before she could even complain.

 

“I’m going to guess that he’s not here,” Lydia said, looking around at the trashed living room.

 

Stiles ignored her and ran into the bathroom and bedroom anyway. Things were thrown around the rooms like someone was looking for something in a hurry. He checked the bookshelf and found his journal still safely tucked behind the old wood where he left it.

 

“Fuck!” Stiles shouted, throwing a heavy book end at the wall.

 

“Stiles, we should go meet up with the others,” Lydia said quietly from the doorway.

 

Stiles took a deep breath and let it all out in a rush before reaching his hand out towards Lydia. She took the hint and rushed into the middle of the room, taking hold of his hand, and they were outside of Derek’s apartment in the next moment.

 

The door swung open immediately and Scott rushed out to envelop Stiles in a tight hug.

 

“We were worried, what took so long?” he asked.

 

“We went to check out Peter’s apartment,” Stiles said bitterly.

 

Scott tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at his friend but didn’t dare say anything else in the hallway. Lydia walked past the two into the apartment and Scott tugged Stiles right up to the edge of the threshold. He looked back in confusion.

 

“Stiles, what’s wrong?” he asked.

 

“Wards, remember?” Stiles said, smiling ruefully.

 

“Oh shit yeah,” Scott said, darting back inside presumably to smudge the sigil on the door.

 

“Ok, you’re good,” he said, reappearing from behind the door.

 

Stiles walked inside and closed the door behind him. He took in the devastation around him. Derek’s apartment looked no better than Peter’s. It looked worse, in fact. There were cracks and blood on the walls, the TV and most of the furniture in the living area was totally destroyed.

 

“It looks like they were both here when they got taken. There are no signs of a werewolf-on-demon showdown at Peter’s place,” Stiles said.

 

Lydia nodded in agreement.

 

“What’s his game? I mean, do you think they’re alive?” Allison asked.

 

Isaac whimpered quietly and Scott patted him on the back soothingly.

 

“Baez is playing hide and seek. They’ll likely be alive for at least a few days, but I doubt it’s going to be easy to find them. We’ll probably need help from Deaton, I mean…wait. Oh, wait!” Stiles suddenly said excitedly.

 

“Peter sold me his soul when he came back to life!” he shouted, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

 

“Ok…what does that have to do with anything?” Lydia asked skeptically.

 

“Peter sold me his soul with no stipulations for collection, which means that I can collect it whenever the fuck I want!” he said joyfully.

 

“So can you figure out where he is, or what?” Isaac asked, still confused.

 

“No, I can’t. But my hellhounds can. If I set them on him all we have to do it let them find him and tear him apart and I’ll be able to figure out where he and Derek are based on where they end up!” he said.

 

“Whoa, whoa, wait. What was that middle part?” Isaac asked.

 

“Dude! I thought you liked him!” Scott said, taken aback.

 

“Stiles will be collecting his soul which means he can do whatever he wants with it. That includes dumping him in hell, binding it to a place or object, or even letting it possess a person,” Lydia said calmly, “Personally, I would go with the former but my guess is that Stiles is going to go with the latter.”

 

Stiles raised his eyebrows in surprise.

 

“I never told you any of that,” he said.

 

Lydia shrugged and smirked at him.

 

“I told you, I’ve been reading up on demons,” she said.

 

Stiles resisted the urge to give her a high five. He figured they should probably wait until this whole kidnapping situation was over for that.

 

“Ok, I guess if that’s our only option we should go for it,” Scott said.

 

Allison hummed her agreement and Isaac nodded.

 

“Do you need anything for this?” Allison asked.

 

Stiles shook his head reached his hand into his stomach.

 

Lydia stepped back quickly and everyone else stared at him in horror.

 

“Oh, relax,” Stiles said, pulling out a thin, almost transparent piece of parchment, “See? No blood.”

 

The group sighed in collective relief as he skimmed over the contract he held. Lydia tried to peer over his shoulder to read it.

 

“It seems short for a contract for a soul. My iTunes TOS is longer than that,” she commented.

 

“Well, it appears shorter than it is. If you want to see the whole thing at once it would probably circle this room twice,” he said.

 

Lydia hummed curiously and watched attentively as Stiles read over collection just to be sure before rolling the contract up and whistling loudly.

 

The pack grew tense as the temperature of the room dropped significantly. After a few heavy seconds of silence they could hear distant howling. Isaac and Scott immediately wolfed out. Lydia stepped behind Stiles and Allison grabbed her crossbow and held it ready.

 

“Relax, they’re not going to do anything to you,” Stiles said, smiling when he could hear the sound of feet padding down the hallway.

 

The door burst open and the pack all jumped back, but nothing was there. They looked around the room in confusion.

 

“I can still hear something moving in here, but I don’t see anything,” Scott said, his brow furrowed in confusion.

 

“Oh, they’re invisible!” Lydia said in a mix of fear and awe.

 

“They don’t have bodies,” Stiles said, leaning down to brush his hand against the large creatures at his feet, “You can’t really see them unless you have the Sight or you’re dead or dying.”

 

“Oh, um, cool?” Isaac said.

 

Stiles ignored him. He held up the iridescent contract in his hand.

 

“I need you to collect this soul and wait for me where you retrieve it. Make the kill clean with as little damage to the body as possible. If you find a demon in the immediate area do not let it leave,” he said firmly.

 

The hounds howled their understanding and took off. Stiles let the contract disintegrate for now and turned to face his friends. Scott and Isaac looked back at him in awe. Allison and Lydia both looked deadly serious, though at least neither had any weapons trained on him.

 

“That was hardcore,” Scott muttered.

 

Stiles laughed and that seemed to break the tension enough that everybody was on the move, grabbing holy water and weapons.

 

“Even with the wards Baez has undoubtedly put up, they should find him within the next 24 hours. We should stay close because as soon as Baez realizes he’s been made he’s going to make a run for it. We’ll have to get there immediately if we want to end this once and for all,” Stiles said.

 

“I’ll let my mom know what’s going on…” Scott started.

 

“No demon Stiles slips!” Stiles interrupted.

 

“No demon Stiles slips. And she can cover for us. Allison, you should let your dad know too…”

 

“No way! He would probably come here and kill Stiles himself,” she exclaimed.

 

“Ally, we need all the help we can get right now. He’s a hunter, he can keep you and Lydia safe while we…”

 

“Whoa. No. What? You are not leaving me behind,” Lydia snapped.

 

“I can help; I’m just as good as my dad!” Allison added.

 

Scott looked at Stiles for help.

 

“I can’t transport everyone. No one is going to be fighting Baez but me. You two can kick all three of our asses from here to China but our safest bet is to let the two with supernatural healing come with me. You guys need to be here in case shit hits the fan and our families are all left unprotected,” he said.

 

Allison and Lydia looked at each other and nodded.

 

“Fine, but if my dad shows up here with a bible and a bottle of holy water, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Allison said taking her phone out and walking into the other room.

 

Lydia followed behind, dialing her parents.

 

“Alright, listen up puppies,” Stiles said.

 

Isaac growled threateningly but Stiles waved him off.

 

“This is going to go down fast when it happens. The second we get there I want both of you to get Derek and Peter somewhere relatively safe. Baez doesn’t know that this spell exists so getting him with the knife shouldn’t be too hard. Still, he’s fast and he prides himself on being unpredictable so be prepared in case he goes after you,” he said.

 

Scott and Isaac both nodded.

 ===============================================

They decided to start cleaning up the apartment as best they could. Chris got there ten minutes after Allison’s call. He glared at Stiles every few minutes but otherwise seemed content to pick up broken glass and reshelf piles of books.

 

Once the place was relatively clean, they ordered pizza—which Chris volunteered to pick up—and watched a movie on Scott’s laptop.

 

When exhaustion finally caught up with them, they found someplace to sleep. Allison and Lydia took Derek’s bed. Chris took the couch and Isaac curled up on the love seat. Scott and Stiles took the floor, although as soon as everyone had fallen asleep Stiles felt antsy and restless.

 

The usual comfort he got out of the calming sound of sleep was gone and he was itching to just go already, though he didn’t dare leave before he knew where Baez was. He willed himself to stay still through one of the longest nights of his time playing human.

 ====================================

 

When the sun finally peeked in through the window, Stiles got up and ransacked Derek’s kitchen. Luckily, the man had just been shopping and he had enough ingredients for pancakes.

 

Chris woke up almost as soon as Stiles started moving. He doubted the man had even slept restfully. He glared at Stiles until he figured out what he was doing and then he got up to help him.

 

“So you think this plan of yours is going to work, huh?” Chris said quietly as he cracked eggs into the bowl.

 

Stiles looked over at him with narrowed eyes.

 

“Why else would I have put so much effort into it?” he asked.

 

“Well what if it doesn’t,” Chris challenged.

 

Stiles turned back to the flour he was measuring out.

 

“Why do you think you’re here?” he said.

 

Chris didn’t say anything else and they worked in silence until the smell of bacon started to wake up the sleeping teens.

 

“Breakfast,” Scott said drowsily, grabbing a plate and sitting at the kitchen island, “thanks.”

 

As everyone else started joining them, the apartment became livelier. Even Chris was drawn into a conversation about the accuracy of werewolves depicted in popular culture.

 

Through it all Stiles could still feel a tension in the air. He wasn’t sure if it was the anticipation or if it was just all his own worry he was feeling.

 

He wasn’t used to feeling worried and he decidedly hated it.

 

 ==============================

They were halfway through their second movie of the day when Stiles heard the howls of his hounds. He stood up so quickly that Scott practically jumped out of his seat.

 

“Oh my god, dude! What?” he asked.

 

“Come on, I know where they are,” Stiles said.

 

Scott and Isaac practically ran to grab him and he heard Chris’s distant shout before they were standing in a dark abandoned warehouse.

 

Derek and Peter were back to back, tied together with rope that must be laced with wolfsbane. Derek was twisting around to look at them with wide eyes. He was covered in blood, but it was nothing compared to Peter who was slumped lifelessly against his nephew covered in gouged out slashes, blood pooling beneath him.

 

Isaac and Scott ran to the werewolves and Stiles spun around just in time to stop the hand about to connect with his face.

 

“I have to say, I didn’t expect you to have made a deal with one of them. I guess I misjudged your relationship,” Baez said, lifting his trapped hand and clawing at Stiles exposed stomach with the other.

 

Stiles looked down at himself as blood poured out of the deep wounds.

 

“You were so into the whole werewolf thing, I figured: why not give it a try?” Baez said, smiling and waving a clawed hand at Stiles.

 

Stiles growled and shoved Beaz against the far wall with a burst of energy. The demon grunted but broke out of his control before he could pull the knife out and stab him. He dodged as Stiles recklessly launched the heavy boxes lining the wall in his direction.

 

“I thought you were slow before, but I swear, you seem to be moving slug-pace with these werewolf senses. It’s kind of sad,” Baez said, appearing right in Stiles space.

 

Baez reached through Stiles’s chest and grabbed his heart. Before he could pull it out, Stiles pulled out the knife and stabbed him in the neck with it.

 

The demon laughed then froze suddenly, releasing his grip on Stiles.

 

“Wha…what the fuck is this?!” he shrieked, his eyes flickering between pure black and pure white.

 

“That’s non-existence bitch. I hope you enjoy it,” Stiles sneered, tearing the knife out of his neck and stabbing it into his heart, twisting it for good measure.

 

Baez screamed until his eyes cleared and became human again. The body crumpled to the ground and the knife disintegrated into black dust.

 

Stiles felt himself losing control of his body, having lost way too much blood. He walked awkwardly towards the werewolves on the other end of the room but collapsed halfway there.

 

“Stiles! Stiles, are you ok!?” Scott yelled, running over to him.

 

“’m good…los t’ much blood…’s De’rk ok?” Stiles said, barely able to command his lips to shape the words.

 

“He’s fine. Freaked out about the whole hellhound thing, but fine. Peter’s dead. Is Baez…did it work?” Scott asked.

 

“Yeah…h’s gone…jus’ gi’ me ten min’ts,” Stiles slurred.

 

He heard Scott get up and leave but couldn’t see anything behind his closed eyelids. He sighed internally and focused all his energy on speeding up the healing process. It helped that he had a new soul to use.

 

He made sure not to replete the soul’s energy too much. Peter would need to heal his own body too. Plus, it would take energy to possess a dead body. He hoped Peter would be up to the task because Stiles was more than ready to just put all of this behind him.

 =============================================

It took him fifteen minutes to regain full control of his body. Stiles stood up and stretched, checking out his newly stitched together skin. He walked over to where Derek, Isaac, and Scott were all huddled together.

 

They didn’t look up as he neared them and he noticed that they were actually all standing over Peter’s body.

 

“What’re you guys doing?” Stiles asked slowly.

 

Derek’s head shot up and he looked Stiles up and down, pausing over the dark blood stains.

 

“What the fuck was up with the invisible dogs? Why did they kill Peter?” he asked angrily.

 

Stiles looked at Scott and Isaac who shrugged.

 

“I figured they would have told you this but those were my hellhounds. They killed Peter because he sold me his soul and I was collecting it so that I could find you guys. Now move out of the way,” Stiles said, shoving at the boys until they moved.

 

He kneeled over Peter’s body and ran a hand over his torn up stomach.

 

“What are you doing?” Derek asked.

 

“I’m kissing the prince awake,” Stiles said, smiling.

 

He straddled Peter’s waist and cupped his cheeks, leaning in until their lips were barely an inch apart. He opened his mouth and breathed the light gray tendrils of smoke out of his body and into Peter’s.

 

It took a minute for the soul to settle. Stiles tried to guide him as best he could, helping him take control of the body, the heart, the mind. Finally Peter’s eyes flew open and he gasped for breath.

 

He shot up, touching Stiles’s back as he settled on his lap.

 

“You good? Do you need me to help you out or do you think you have the hang of it?” Stiles asked.

 

Peter blinked and looked around.

 

“No, I think I get it,” he said, lifting his hand and looking down at it, “You’ve been doing this for 17 years? I feel like I can barely hold it together for five minutes!”

 

Stiles laughed.

 

“Dead bodies are a lot harder to control. It’s probably a lot harder for you too because you’re newly liberated from your body and you’ve yet to go through the metaphoric meat grinder of hell,” he said.

 

“So Peter’s a demon now?” Scott asked.

 

Stiles looked up at his friend.

 

“Not really, no. Did you notice that his soul wasn’t black like mine?” he asked.

 

“I didn’t even know that it was possible for me to see your soul!” Scott said wide-eyed.

 

Stiles tilted his head back and released his hold on his body, rising up and out of it. As soon as he was sure Scott had seen he returned and resituated himself.

 

“Whoa! Cool trick!” Isaac said.

 

“Anyway, a demon is just a soul tortured and twisted by hell. Peter has never been to hell so really, he’s more like a ghost right now than a demon,” Stiles said.

 

“So am I your little bitch from now on?” Peter said playfully.

 

Derek made a noise of disgust and covered his ears.

 

“Peter, you’ve been my little bitch for months, who are you kidding?” Stiles said smirking.

 

Peter swiped at his head but he twisted out of the way and off of his lap, laughing.

 

“Alright boys, anyone who wants to go home and shower get a good grip on the Stiles,” Stiles said stretching his arms out.

 

Derek grabbed his hand immediately but he still looked disturbed so Stiles figured he should probably soothe him.

 

“Don’t worry Derek, you will always be our beloved nephew,” he said.

 

He cackled as Derek’s claws burrowed into the skin of his palm.

 

Isaac grabbed Stiles’s other hand and Scott touched the back of his neck.

 

“Dude, one day you’re going to literally break him if you keep doing that,” Scott whispered, a smile in his voice.

 

Peter hoisted himself up off the concrete floor and cupped Stiles’s cheeks.

 

“Thank you for coming to rescue us,” Peter said.

 

Stiles smiled and they were back at the apartment before Peter leaned in and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left! There will probably be a lot of fluff which for this pair does not mean that there's not extreme violence lol.


	20. Chapter 20

((Four months later))

 

“Wow, bloody snow is not as gratifying as I thought it would be,” Peter commented, watching the hunter struggle helplessly to keep the blood from pouring out of the puncture in his neck.

 

A second hunter screamed as Stiles ripped his ribcage open, looking thoughtfully at his stuttering heart.

 

“I told you. It’s always disappointing because the blood soaks up in one spot. You really need a massacre to get that satisfying contrast,” he said, ripping out the hunter’s heart and throwing it at Peter’s back.

 

Peter leaned out of the way of the flying viscera without looking away from his own victim.

 

“Hmm. Maybe we can provoke those nymphs who took up residence at the south end of the preserve?” he suggested.

 

Stiles scoffed.

 

“We’re not looking for trouble in our own backyard. We get enough of it without trying. Besides, nymphs are a lot tougher than you would think,” Stiles stood up and wiped his bloody hands on his pants, “Anyway, we should be heading back if we’re going to make it in time for Allison’s birthday party.”

 

Peter looked back at him and sighed.

 

“I suppose so,” he said, walking up to his boyfriend and holding his arm out, “When are you going to teach me how to teleport on my own?” he asked.

 

Stiles hooked his arm with Peter’s and brought them back to the apartment.

 

“It’s not really something you can learn. If you make deals with humans and collect souls you kind of just…figure it out at a certain point. It’s hard to explain. It took me a hundred years of dealing to figure it out and two hundred years to figure out telekinesis. You shouldn’t even worry about it too much. You don’t even have any territory,” he explained.

 

Peter raised an eyebrow.

 

“Well how did you get territory?” Peter asked.

 

Stiles smiled mischievously.

 

“Let’s just say that having ties to the land and a magical background goes a long way towards ousting an old crossroads demon and stealing her hellhounds.”

 

Peter shook his head and headed to the bathroom to clean up.

 

“Somehow I’m not really surprised,” he said.

 

Stiles grinned and ran to catch up with Peter.

 

 ==================================

“Dude! You made this?” Scott asked between mouthfuls of chips loaded with bean dip.

 

Isaac slapped Scott’s hands away from the bag of chips so he could grab some.

 

“Mom’s secret recipe,” Stiles said, smiling.

 

Lydia tried to grab a piece of shrimp and he quickly pulled the whole bowl away from her. Shrimp cocktail was his kryptonite.

 

“How could you keep such an amazing secret from me for so long?” Scott moaned, his mouth full of food.

 

Lydia leaned over Stiles for the shrimp and he held them away from his body over the edge of the couch. She had literally crawled on top of Stiles to try to get to the bowl before Allison tugged it out of his hands and walked around the coffee table, sitting down next to Lydia and offering up the bowl.

 

Lydia smirked at Stiles and pushed herself off of him, grabbing a piece of shrimp and biting into it smugly.

 

Chris walked into the living room and greeted Stiles with his customary glare.

 

“Where’s you’re dead werewolf?” he asked.

 

Stiles made a show of looking around the room.

 

“Gee, I don’t know. Why don’t you ask his nephew?” he asked.

 

Chris stared at him for a long moment—likely contemplating the pros and cons of bringing out the holy water –then looked around the room. When he realized that Derek was also missing he glared back down at Stiles who only grinned back.

 

“They went to pick up the Chinese food, Dad,” Allison said.

 

Chris smiled over at her then shot Stiles one more glare before disappearing back into the kitchen.

 

“Stiles!” he heard his dad shouting.

 

Stiles hopped off the couch and followed the sound into the kitchen.

 

Chris pointedly ignored him as he grabbed a beer from the fridge and leaned against the counter. John sat at the island next to Melissa.

 

Stiles smiled to himself when he noticed their hands brushing together on the counter-top.

 

“What’s up daddy-o?” Stiles asked.

 

Melissa smiled at him and John shook his head like he was still in denial that they were related.

 

“Chris, Melissa, and I are going to go out to eat so you guys can have some space. Maybe you should give Allison her present now so you guys have something to do,” he said.

 

Stiles smiled.

 

“Alright. And yeah I was actually thinking the same thing,” Stiles said.

 

“Stiles, honey, can you tell Scott that I have a shift at the hospital tonight and that that doesn’t mean that he can stay out all hours of the night,” Melissa said.

 

“Sure thing Mrs. M,” Stiles said, giving her thumbs up as he backed out of the kitchen.

 

“Stiles, be home by midnight,” John added.

 

“Got it!” Stiles called before spinning around and retreating back into the living room.

 

Scott looked up at his return.

 

“You good?” he asked.

 

“Yeah, your mom says she has a shift at the hospital tonight and not to stay out too late,” he replied.

 

Scott nodded and smiled when Allison sat down next to him and rested her hand on his thigh.

 

“Hey Allison, you should open my present now,” Stiles said, heading for the pile of presents stacked in the corner of the room.

 

She tore open the paper when he presented it to her and gasped.

 

“Oh my god! We’re having a marathon right now guys!” she declared happily.

 

“What is it?” Isaac asked, leaning over the coffee table to try to get a look at the DVDs in her hand.

 

“Planet Earth. The whole series,” Scott answered, grinning.

 

“Sweet,” Isaac said, relaxing back into the couch.

 

Lydia opened her mouth to comment but was interrupted by the return of Derek and Peter with the Chinese food.

 

Chris, Melissa, and John said their goodbyes and the Chinese food was distributed before finally everyone settled down in front of the TV to watch Planet Earth.

 

Stiles sat on the floor against the couch with his back pressed against Peter’s legs.

 

Scott and Isaac lay on the floor with Allison sandwiched between them. Every time something cool happened, that high-fived over Allison’s body.

 

“Earth, yo,” Scott said for the tenth time.

 

Derek threw a pillow in his direction.

 

“Hey, hey, watch out for the birthday girl!” Isaac said smiling and throwing the pillow back toward the couch.

 

Stiles caught it and smacked Derek as hard as he could with it. Derek growled and shoved the pillow away.

 

“I just don’t understand why you need to say that every five minutes. We’re all aware that all of these events are occurring on Earth,” Derek grumbled.

 

Scott and Isaac ignored him in favor of high-fiving as a gazelle got taken down by a lioness.

 

“Planet Earth, man,” Isaac said.

 

Derek groaned and rested his face in his hands. Peter snickered and kicked Stiles lightly. He looked up and found Peter grinning down at him, his eyes flicking briefly in the direction of the kitchen.

 

Stiles nodded and stood, taking Peter’s hand and pulling him towards the kitchen.

 

“Boys, bring me back a can of seltzer,” Lydia said airily as they passed.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes.

 

“Yes your highness,” he said, bowing as he passed her.

 

Lydia smirked and flipped her hair and Stiles couldn’t help laughing.

 

When they made it to the kitchen, Peter pulled Stiles over to the window and raised a finger to his lips. Stiles muttered a silencing spell.

 

“Okay, what is it Zombiewolf?” he asked when the spell set.

 

“You know, I don’t think that nickname is appropriate anymore given that I’m well and truly dead now,” Peter said, shaking his head.

 

“You’ll always be my Zombiewolf!” Stiles cooed, stepping up into Peter’s space, “Is this just a cry for attention?”

 

“Maybe. Or, maybe I was just thinking that there were better things we could be doing that watching another two hours of Planet Earth,” Peter said, gripping Stiles’s jaw and running his thumb against his lips.

 

Stiles opened his mouth to speak and froze when he heard shouting in the other room.

 

“Stiles! Peter! Get out here now!” Derek called.

 

Peter raised an eyebrow and Stiles rolled his eyes, waving away the spell.

 

“Alright, what is it?” Stiles asked grumpily as they re-entered the living room.

 

Everyone stood in a loose circle in the center of the room and looked up as they approached.

 

“Mr. Argent just called,” Scott said, “They found the janitor who went missing last week wandering on the road at the edge of the preserve. He kept saying he was attacked by a man who was seven feet tall with glowing eyes and razor sharp teeth and claws. He said there was a whole pack of them. They send him for a psych evaluation but Mr. Argent and the Sheriff think we should check it out.”

 

Stiles twisted around to wink at Peter, smiling brightly at the rest of the pack.

 

“Well, what are we waiting for then? Let’s go find our monsters,” he said.

 

If he and Peter were a little too enthusiastic when they realized they would get their massacre in the snow, well, no one in the pack said anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I may have started writing a crossover between this story and The Magic's in the Coffee...so there there will be a little bit more of these two soon in a seperate fic. I just had so much fun writing this and thank you for everyone who liked this and commented.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [tumblr!!!](http://xodanielleox.tumblr.com/)


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